


Fallout 4: Purple

by CloudF11



Series: Requiem [1]
Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: And by slow burn I mean somewhat slow burn, Anxiety, Dancing, Demisexual Character, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fallout 4 Spoilers, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Literary References & Allusions, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, One Night Stands, Other tags might be added, Pansexual Character, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, dancing badly, unhealthy family relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudF11/pseuds/CloudF11
Summary: Purple is made of two colors: Red, and blue. Starting after his initial visit to the Institute, the Sole Survivor Jack Schmidt returns to Diamond City to take the intrepid reporter, Piper Wright, with him on his adventures. Yet, neither of them planned to fall for each other.Purple is also up on fanfiction. The version on fanfiction is currently being rewritten. What you are reading on here is the rewritten version.I do not own Fallout 4, or the many, many songs used in this work. Enjoy.





	1. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, it begins.

Jack Schmidt stood before the door of Publick Occurrences on a chillingly cold November night.

His hands shook as he reached to knock on the door. He had nowhere else to be at the moment; Nick was back at the Red Rocket, resting after the fight with Eddie Winter. He had already gone to find his son, only to be disappointed, and Preston didn’t have any work for him to do. All his companions were cozy in Sanctuary, so what else was there to do? He had some time on his hands, and he hadn’t seen Diamond City’s only reporter since before he went to the Memory Den in Goodneighbor. 

The pre-war vault dweller felt bad- Jack had traveled all over Timbuctoo, doing so much in just the matter of a month with Nick and the other companions. And yet, he seemed to completely overlook the quirky, spontaneous and snarky Piper Wright. Jack was amazed by her ability to stand up for what she believed in. From what he had seen and gathered from their interview, the two seemed to share identical ideals. 

He wanted to bring her along on his adventures and to rid the Commonwealth of its boogeyman- become her friend. Yet, there was one thing that kept him from doing so all this time: she reminded him _so much_ of Nora. 

Jack hesitated to knock on the door. When he finally brought himself to do so, he was greeted by two bright hazel-green eyes and a shining smile. “Blue!” Piper exclaimed. “Come on in.” 

He shot her a friendly smile in return as he stepped through the door. The home was mostly quiet, other than the usual creak of the walls and their voices. 

“How has the journalist life been working out for ya?” Jack asked, crossing his arms as Piper took a seat on the couch.

“Oh, you know, the same ole stuff,” she began. “Death threats, complaints, the occasional angry citizen knocking at my door. Totally worth it.”

“Death threats?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. “The folks here must really hate you, then.”

“Yeah, they do, but they don’t have the damn nerve to carry out anything they say they’ll do. Lucky me,” Piper explained. “Anyway, what’s been goin’ on with you? Did ya end up going to the Institute and findin’ your son?”

Jack’s eyes dropped to the floor at hearing her question. “Yeah…. Yeah, I-I did.”

"What happened?"

 _Damn her and her nosiness._ “Nick and I went straight to the Glowing Sea and then built the transporter back at Sanctuary,” he began, fiddling with a string on his glove. “The Institute… it’s clean. Nothing like it is here in the Commonwealth, but nothing like my old home.”

“What do ya mean?” the reporter asked, leaning into the back of the couch.

“White walls, white floors…. White everything,” Jack tried to explain. “Everything you’d assume would be in the stereotypical futuristic comic book, if that makes any sense.” 

Piper nodded as he continued. “Turns out, I’m sixty years late. Sixty years ago, Kellogg killed my wife, Nora. Sixty years ago, my boy was taken. Shaun’s the damn leader of the Institute.”

“I…. I’m sorry, Blue, I didn’t know,” Piper told him, giving him her condolences. “You haven’t gotten a break yet, have you?”

“No,” he admitted. “I’ve been working my ass off since the day I left the damn vault.” _I haven’t slept in a week._

Jack noticed her look down momentarily. As Piper looked back up at him, he looked away from her. Uncomfortable and unnecessary silence filled the room like water in a pool, nearly drowning both of them. “Do you… want to crash here for the night?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

“No I-I can go to the Dugout Inn, it ain’t a big deal,” Jack turned down her offer. _Like I’m going to sleep anyways._

“Come on, Blue. You look like you’re about to pass out,” Piper attempted to persuade him. “I don’t need my pre-war friend fallin’ and getting’ hurt.” _Friend._

"Piper-"

"I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Sleep here tonight- it’s a shorter distance than to the Dugout Inn. Plus, it’s free.”

“Fine,” Jack said with a sigh. 

“I’ll take the couch for tonight. My bed’s upstairs, go ahead and crash there,” Piper told him with a smile.

“You sure? It’s your house… I can take the couch,” Jack said. It was Piper’s home, after all. She had every right to put him on the couch, yet she insisted he sleep in her bed. _She’s too nice to this old soldier for both of our own good._

“Hundred percent. I’ll be fine on the couch for a night, go take my bed,” she insisted.

Jack nodded in response, carrying his stuff upstairs and laying it down next to the bed. The scent of newspapers and ink reached his nose. He took in the scent that he seemed to enjoy so much as he eyed the second floor. It was small: a bed, desk and terminal occupied the room. To his right was a door, which he assumed led to the roof of the Publick. As he let himself lay down on a bed for the first time in a week, he felt the ache in his muscles and the pain on the side of his head. 

He grabbed his bag and rummaged through it, pulling out one of the many holotapes he had. On it read the name of Nora’s favorite pre-war song. It wasn’t like the usual music they always heard, but she enjoyed it. Jack thanked whatever god was watching over him that the holotapes with all their favorite songs had been saved after the bombs dropped. He slid the tape into his Pip-Boy and turned the volume down before resting his head on the pillow. The song played just loud enough for him to hear it.

It started out with simple elevator-like music, and into French words that he could understand.

_Elle etait plus que parfaite mais je l'aimais a l'imparfait. Nous parlions du futur avec nos prenoms composes._

The words flowed through the speaker of his Pip-Boy. Hearing the foreign words brought Jack back to his high-school days momentarily, where he took a class to learn the language.

_J'ai compose un temps pour que l'on se refugiasse, mais j'suis pas tres literaire sans une batterie et une basse._

French words evolved into English words. _I call for your help, like a 911. You pick up the phone, and you say ‘hang on.’ Then you throw the phone, in the air, and you run._

_You are like pure speed meta, amphetamine. Your goddess turns water into, gasoline. You're a mona lisa or a venus, in furs. A superhero knight, in shiny metal spurs. You're the best girl, the best girl._

Before he could get through the entire song, Jack drifted off into a very much needed sleep.

* * *

Jack awoke with a start to the sound of beeping. His teeth chattered as he violently shivered. As his vision cleared up, he found himself behind a window. Ice seemed to thaw away from the window, giving him a view of Nora across from him in her decontamination pod. He watched as a woman in a hazmat suit approached his wife’s pod, followed by a bald man. The woman pointed at the pod. Her words were muffled by the thick layer of steel between him and the rest of the vault. _“This is the one.”_

He watched on, helpless, as the bald man murdered the love of his wife and took his child. _“At least we still have the backup.”_

Jack sat up the moment he woke up. _Just… just a nightmare._ He shivered, despite still wearing his riot coat and his flannel underneath it. His breathing was faster than normal. He took deep breaths, trying to alleviate the panic attack before it got worse. Looking down at his Pip-Boy, he pulled out the holotape and checked the time. _3:56 am._ It was the most sleep he had gotten in a while, even if it was only a few hours of sleep. 

He felt his mind wander to the nightmare. _You couldn’t save Nora. And now, you lost Shaun, too. Heh. Pathetic._ How many times had he had that same exact nightmare? _Too many to count._ Shaking his head, he emerged from the comfort of the bed and stepped down the stairs, trying to avoid the stairs’ inevitable creak to no avail. Jack’s eyes wandered to Piper sleeping on the couch. Her hat was discarded on the floor next to a comic book. Nat, her little sister, seemed to also be asleep, for the entire home was as quiet as the dead of night.

The reporter didn’t even put in the effort to exchange her work clothes for more comfortable clothes. _Just like Nora always was,_ Jack found himself thinking. The memories of many late nights flashed back to his mind, where Nora would spend most of the night working on one thing or another. Eventually, she would come to bed, too tired to discard her day clothes. The thought brought a smile to Jack’s face. He missed her so much, _goddammit._

He glanced at Piper once more. And now, he has something to remind him that she’s actually gone. Jack picked up Piper’s hat and placed it on the arm of the chair before heading back up the stairs. Something felt odd inside him, yet he just couldn’t pinpoint it.

Disregarding the odd feeling, he assumed it was due to his horrible sleep deprivation and return to his slumber.


	2. Holotapes and Noodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, if friendships can be made over lighters, then they can be made over a pre-war holotape and two bowls of Takahashi's good ole Power Noodles.

The sounds of a prerecorded voice awoke Piper from her sleep. 

The reporter slowly stood up from the couch, searching for her press cap only to find it on the arm of the couch. _I thought I left you on the floor,_ Piper thought as she grabbed her signature hat and fixed it on her head. Before she headed upstairs, Piper checked up on Nat. The younger Wright sister was awake, reading a copy of Grognak the Barbarian while still lying in bed.

“Mornin’ kiddo,” Piper chirped, knocking on the wall with her fist. Nat groaned in response, covering her head with the comic book. “You got school today.”

“Do I have to go?” she whined, poking her eye out from underneath the comic book. 

Piper nodded. “Go get some breakfast, Nat. There’s one cup of noodles left for you in the fridge.”

“Noodles again?” she groaned as she leapt out of bed.

“That’s all we can afford at the moment, kiddo,” Piper told her little sister. “The upper stands have all the expensive stuff. We can only afford so much.”

“Alright,” Nat sighed, passing by her older sister and heading towards the fridge. Piper smiled at her sister before heading upstairs. She stopped on one of the stairs, listening intently to the voice. She could only assume it was coming from Jack’s Pip-Boy.

_“-It’s been an amazing year. But even so, I know our best days are yet to come. There’ll be changes, sure. Things we’ll need to adjust to. You’ll rejoin the civilian workforce, I’ll shake the dust off my law degree… But everything we do, no matter how hard, we do it for our family. Now say goodbye, Shaun. Bye bye? Say bye bye? Bye honey, we love you.”_

Piper lowered her head as the realization hit her. _That was… his wife._ She began to step down the stairs to leave Jack to his own devices, only to be startled by his sudden booming voice. “Don’t. I know you were there, it’s fine.” His voice was hoarse and quiet, and Piper immediately wanted to do whatever she could to help the poor man.

The reporter reluctantly joined Jack, leaning against the wall across from her bed. She didn’t know how to make him feel comfortable; heck, she was at a loss of words- and that _never happened._ Seeing this man that she had only met a month ago in such a state of grief tugged at the heart strings; Piper wouldn’t want anyone else to go through what she had in the past with her father.

Her mouth and her brain didn’t exactly work together, and suddenly she’s babbling like a junkie on chems. “What- I, uh- what was… goddammit…” She felt her cheeks burning in embarrassment and looked away, hiding it. Before continuing, the usually articulate Piper cleared her throat to cover up her moment of weakness. “What- if you don’t mind me asking… what was she like?”

As Jack looked up, she immediately regretted asking him. _There you go again, Piper. Bein’ too damn nosy._ She could see two hundred years’ worth of exhaustion in his eyes- as if he hadn’t slept those two centuries in his locked away cryopod. She could see the weight that was being carried on his soul in those hazy blue eyes of his. His eyes were full of dark turmoil despite his eyes being such a bright blue color. Piper had to take a moment to remember whether or not the nickname she gave him was because of the vault suit or his captivating eyes.

“I-I’m sorry if-“

“No-it’s… it’s fine,” he interrupted her, waving her off. Jack took a deep breath, preparing himself to continue. “She was… a lawyer. Always gave people a… a fair trial. Heh… I remember back in college how she used to complain about how much she hated Environmental Law…”

“You went to college with her?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a half-hearted chuckle. “We… we met there. Over a lighter, believe it or not.”

“A lighter?” Piper was intrigued, to say the least. Her curiosity was definitely getting to her.

He gave the first genuine smile that Piper had seen from him. Perhaps prying was a good thing. “Heh, yeah… funny story. I was unpacking stuff in my dorm, and the lighter happened to be outside my door, just lying on the floor. Went to pick it up, and when I stood back up, there she was. The most beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on. We clicked immediately.” The smile faded, along with the one she had as well. “I miss her. Everything about her.”

“I… uh, I know how you feel,” Piper began. Perhaps showing empathy would make him feel more comfortable, or at the very least, eliminate the awkward feeling in the air. “I lost my dad… ‘bout ten years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jack said, lowering his head again. “How… how did he die?”

“Well… Nat and I, we grew up on a tiny little settlement just outside the Commonwealth,” she began to explain, cracking her fingers. “Our dad was part of the local militia. ‘Keeping the raiders off our backs and the mirelurks out of our latrines,’ he used to say.” She gave an empty chuckle at her father’s words. 

“As… as you know, he… our dad turned up dead one day,” she explained further, her voice cracking up. _Hold yourself together._ “The captain of the militia, asshole named Mayburn, claimed that raiders must have gotten our dad while on watch. I didn’t buy it, started makin’ inquiries. Turns out, he had sold out and was gonna let a group of raiders sack the place- take a cut of the profits.”

Jack sat silently, listening to her story. “And you uncovered the truth?”

“Mhm. I couldn’t let him get away with murdering my father. All my dad was doing was trying to protect the city by turning him in, but Mayburn got to him first,” Piper continued, the confidence in her voice slowly returning. “The mayor wouldn’t listen to me, so I covered the town in posters. ‘Wanted for Gross Dereliction of Duty, Captain Mayburn.’ After that, they finally threw him out on his ass and were dug in when a very surprised group of raiders finally decided to show.”

“Piper, you saved those people,” Jack said, locking eyes with her for the first time since he arrived at the Publick.

She smiled in response. “Guess I did. It was hard after he died, but knowing that he died doing what was right has always made it better.”

“Nora… she died trying to protect Shaun,” he opened up more about his late wife. “Bless her heart. All she was doing was being a mother, and they shot her for it. Sometimes I wish I was the one who took Shaun instead of her.”

 _Mother._ Piper didn’t necessarily have great memories of that word. Her mother was never around; never in the picture. She had given birth to Nat and decided to run off, not too long before her father had died. Even when she was around, she never did the family any good. 

She pushed her thoughts to the side. Piper wasn’t going to dump the story of her broken family on Jack. She just wanted to make him feel more comfortable, not put more weight on his shoulders. Even if she were to explain it to him, it wouldn’t be any different from the other stories of broken families in the Commonwealth. 

“I mean… she died trying to save Shaun, right? Maybe knowing that she died trying to save him will help. Like it did for me when my father died,” she suggested.

Jack took a shaky and deep breath. “You know,” he started, attempting to show some kind of smile. “Maybe it will help.”

 _That’s the spirit._ “And maybe just remember the good times, yeah?”

The turmoil in his eyes still lingered, but his smile grew a bit wider. “Thank you, Piper.”

“No problem.”

“I should… probably head out,” Jack half mumbled as he grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and his rifle over the other one. He quickly stepped down the stairs, while Piper followed behind him whilst nearly tripping on each stair. Before he could reach the door, she grabbed his wrist.

“Whoa there, Blue, you don’t just come here, sleep in my room for the night, chat and then leave,” she called him out, crossing her arms. “What did you need? Goodness, don’t tell me you came here just to get out of paying for a room in the Dugout.”

The pre-war vault dweller hesitated, and then, “Yeah… almost, uh, almost forgot. Did you want to travel with me?”

Piper had never been happier. “I guess the paper can wait.” She wouldn’t admit it, but she was happy to get out of the Publick and Diamond City. She was getting a break from the hate that came from the DC residents, and she could get away from Nat. It wasn’t like she wanted to get away from her, but she was _oh so_ afraid of her becoming like her; getting into everyone’s business, getting in trouble, and endangering herself for others. She just wanted Nat to be kid she used to be. 

“Alright, we should probably stop and get somethin’ to eat before we leave,” Jack suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” Piper agreed with a smile.

“Ooooooooooooh,” Nat jibed as they were stepping out the door. _Oh, my GOD! Nat!_ She turned around and peaked her head in through the doorway. 

“Nat! Shush! We’re just getting noodles!”

“Yeah, you’re going on a date!” Nat continued to joke, causing Piper’s cheeks to burn for the second time that morning. 

“Are you going to do this for every damn person that visits, Nat?”

“Heck yeah! It’s fun.”

Piper just shook her head in response, and fled the Publick before her sister caught onto the blush.

* * *

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Ich spreche kein Japanisch, du verrückter Roboter,” Jack spoke in some other language that Piper didn’t know. _(Translation: I don’t speak Japanese, you crazy robot.)_ “Yes, give me two bowls of noodles.”

“You sure you don’t want me to pay for my own bowl, Blue?” Piper asked. She was relieved that he was paying- she was a little short on caps, but she still had enough left for a bowl.

“Hundred percent, Piper,” he told her, placing twenty caps on the counter.

“By the way, what the hell were you speaking?” she asked in curiosity. Piper wasn’t familiar with other languages outside of the two foreign ones she knew and what she heard in the Commonwealth. 

“I was speaking in German,” Jack told her, cracking his neck. “Most of my mother’s side of the family is German.”

Piper nodded in acknowledgement. As Takahashi returned with their noodle cups, she noticed the scars on Jack’s face. She found herself reaching out to touch them, but refrained and pulled her hand away. “Where’d you get those scars, Blue?”

“Hm? These? What, do ya think they’re attractive?” he joked, laughing.

“What? No! I-I was just-“

“Calm down, I’m just pullin’ your chain,” Jack reassured her. _Looks like he’s feelin’ better._ “I got them back in my army days when I was in China and Anchorage."

“Oh, uh, heh,” she replied, flustered. Piper found herself fascinated with the pre-war vault dweller and his story. There were so many questions she had for Jack- about pre-war Boston and his thoughts about the Commonwealth now. She was excited to finally get on the road with him and see what adventures awaited them. If she ever passed up the opportunity to travel with someone who watched the bombs dropped, she would be making a huge mistake

As she began to eat her noodles, Jack stood up and mumbled a, “be right back,” before heading deeper into the market. Piper watched as he leant down next to Sheffield, the man who was always asking for Nuka-Cola. He handed the older man a bottle of Cola before standing up. She could just barely make out what they were saying.

“Thank you, stranger! Is there anything I can do to repay you? I’m in your debt,” Sheffield asked him, standing up himself.

“No need, Sheffield,” Jack told him with a smile. “But… if you’re looking for some work and need some caps, head down to Sanctuary. The Minutemen and I set up a settlement down there.”

“R-Really? Thank you, good sir!” Sheffield exclaimed, running off towards the Fens. 

Piper couldn’t help but stare in awe. _Nobody_ ever helped Sheffield. The people of Diamond City never really paid attention to him, and the people of the upper stands treated him even worse. She herself had helped him out a few times- spared a few caps and gave him a cup of noodles. But never would she have offered the man a _damn job._ She found herself smiling like an idiot. She truly had met an amazing person- a selfless one, too.

Intrusive thoughts creeped into her head. _God, Piper, what are you thinking? He’s still grieving, you know._ She ignored her thoughts and went back to eating her noodles.

Jack trotted back over to the noodle stand, sitting down next to her and finishing up his noodles. Piper wiped the stupid grin off her face. “Wow, Blue- that, that was really nice of you,” she said, struggling to get her words out the way she wanted them to come out. “N-Nobody ever… ever helps him out like he did.”

“Really? Guess things really have changed since they froze me. People had much more compassion back then. I mean, those who weren’t so goddamn fuckin’ greedy. I miss those days, as corrupt as they sometimes were.”

They continued to chat about the pre-war world whilst eating their noodles, and then met up at the gate. 

“Ready to go?” Piper asked, but Jack was looking up at the sky, distracted. She looked as well, seeing the sky burn with reds, oranges, pinks and purples.

“Red skies at morning, sailors take warning,” he mumbled. “Red skies at night, sailors delight.”

“W-What?”

He looked back down over at Piper. “Oh sorry, don’t… don’t worry about it. Just some old pre-war thing. We might hit some bad weather on the way to Sanctuary, but we should be fine.”

“Alright, well, let’s get going. How long do you think it’ll be to get to Sanctuary from here?” Piper asked.

“Bout a day? Less if we don’t stop.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

And off they went, headed towards the grave of Jack’s pre-war life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it seems rewriting these first twenty-ish chapters is taking a bit longer than I expected, but it's worth it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warm welcome.

Sanctuary. Jack’s home. 

He was a bit excited to show Piper the settlement, and all the work he had done already. He had tried as hard as he could to return it to its former glory with the limited time and resources he had. As the two approached the settlement, a flashback hit him. The houses in Sanctuary returned to their vibrant colors, and were in perfect condition. The burned grass was suddenly green again, and the dead mongrel before the bridge had disappeared. The flashback disappeared as fast as it came, and a wave of vertigo took its place.

Jack had to stop in his place to regain his composure. “You alright, Blue?” Piper asked, a few feet in front of him. Her head was tipped to the side in concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he told her. “Vertigo.” His hands shook in response to the flashback, and he shoved them into the pockets of his riot coat, forming fists. Suddenly, a bullet ripped through the air and found its way into Jack’s left shoulder. Piper had already jumped to cover, leaving him out in the open like a deer in headlights. More bullets flew past, and it took a second before Jack realized that there were raiders attacking his home.

“Scheisse,” he swore in German, ducking for cover and pulling out his M1 Garand. He always had a love for World War Two weapons, and it was a surprise to find one still around after so many years. The weapon made a satisfying _shhick_ sound and a _ping!_ as he reloaded the rifle before firing on the attacking raiders. 

A raider with a baseball bat came charging towards him. When he got within vicinity of Jack, he swung the bat violently. He grabbed the bat from the raider’s hand, breaking it over his knee. The raider looked on in fear as Jack brought half of the broken bat down on his head, rendering him unconscious. Looking over, he watched as Piper single-handedly dealt with a raider. The threatening raider threw a punch at her while Piper ducked under his arm, planting her leg behind his. She grabbed onto the back of the raider’s shirt and pushed him with her free hand, locking her leg with his and throwing him to the ground.

All Jack could do was stare. _Oh, my- ho-ly s-shit._ He couldn't form words. _What are you thinking, Jackson?_

“Blue!” Piper shouted, and before he knew it, she had tackled him to the ground as a missile whizzed over their heads. Their faces both went as red as tatos before they stood up and returned to fighting. Something inside his brain clicked as he thanked her for practically saving his life, and he didn’t exactly like the realization that hit him like the bullet in his shoulder did. _Stop it. Falling for your companion is not a damn option._ Jack shook his head, deciding to address his thoughts later and got back into the fight.

Raiders littered the settlement, attempting to steal crops and attacking settlers. The two went off on their own, helping out where they could. 

“Hey! Jack, a little help over here?” a voice shouted from the distance. He immediately recognized the voice as his old friend, Kendall. His good ole army buddy had turned into a ghoul, and met up with him not too long after he had left the vault. 

Jack sprung to his side, headbutting the raider that was attacking his friend. The two fought side by side, killing the many raiders that were attacking. “Just like old days, eh, Kendall?”

“Just like old days, Bullseye,” his friend said, using his old army nickname. 

Suddenly, a raider threw their fist at Jack, to which he ducked. Kendell caught the threatening raider’s fist, twisting his arm and allowing Jack to stab him in the chest with his trusty knife. As another raider began firing upon them, he grabbed the dead raider’s body and used it as a shield. Kendell stood behind him, using the dead raider as cover and fired back with his pistol, killing the raider with a shot to the head. 

Kendall grabbed his hatchet and launched it into the chest of a raider, the blow killing them immediately. As he pulled the axe from the raider’s chest, Jack sunk the blade of his knife into another raider’s back, pushing him over to his pre-war army buddy. Kendall brought the hatchet down on the raider’s head. 

“Nice job, soldier,” Jack said, giving Kendell a high-five. As he turned around to continue fighting, a loud gunshot rang in Jack’s ear, followed by a thud. He felt cold metal of a pistol digging into the back of his skull. _Shitshitshitshit._

“Put your hands in the air. Slowly,” the raider spoke, his accent heavy. Jack did as he was told, raising his hands into the air with a sigh. He was more concerned about Kendall than himself, but if he got his brains blown out, there was no making sure his friend was safe. 

“Man, if I just had my _rifle_ ,” Jack said, putting emphasis on ‘rifle.’

What the fuck are you talkin’ ‘bout?” the raider asked, pushing the pistol into his head with light force.

“I said, _man, if I just had my rifle! Rifle,_ dammit!”

“Shut-“ the man’s words were cut off by a round of sniper fire, and the sound of the raider falling to the ground with a thud. MacCready came running over, his sniper rifle in hand.

“How about next time you use a code word, you say it a bit louder?” MacCready complained.

“How about next time you actually pay attention and fucking listen, Mac?” Jack argued back. MacCready rolled his eyes in response before walking away. “You alright, Kendall?”

No response.

“Kendall?” he repeated. As he turned around, his pre-war buddy laid on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. Jack bent down, looking for a pulse. “Kendall, c’mon!” He only groaned in response. Piper ran over, standing by his side.

“What the hell happened?” she asked.

_I’m a fuckin’ idiot!_ “That damn raider must have got him while I wasn’t looking… must’ve been the gunshot I heard… goddammit! Piper, go get one of the medics. I’ll bring him inside one of the houses.”

Piper nodded and left without a word while Jack dragged Kendall to his old home. “Come on, stay with me,” he whispered, lying him carefully down on the floor. He rummaged through his bag, looking for a stimpack. When he finally found one, he carefully pressed the needle into Kendall’s wound. He watched as the liquid inside the vial of the stimpack emptied into his wound. 

Looking out through the door, he saw multiple settlers running towards the back of the settlement. Popping his head out the door, he saw a raider in power armor with a Fat Man, loading a mini nuke into the weapon.

“Son of a bit- er, biscuit!” he heard MacCready shout.

“Son of a _bitch!”_ Piper yelled, taking cover inside a house with the medic.

“Son of a bitch!” multiple settlers screamed at the same time.

The raider aimed the Fat Man at Jack and his house, and before he knew it, the mini nuke was hurling towards him. “Oh, son of a-“ He ducked just in time as the mini nuke flew right over him, into the house and through one of the old kitchen windows. “BITCH!” 

Grabbing his pistol, he fired at the raider through one of the windows. One of the shots knocked the Fat Man out of his hands, confusing the raider and buying Piper the time to run over to the house with the medic.

“What happened here?” Michael, the medic, asked, kneeling beside Kendall. 

“I don’t _fucking_ know, I had my back turned and all I heard was a gunshot,” Jack explained with little detail, frustrated. “Just… help him.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll see what I can do,” the medic agreed before getting to work. 

Jack turned and headed for the door, only to be stopped by Piper grabbing his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“There’s a raider in power armor out there with the ability to replicate the Great War except on a much smaller scale and on Sanctuary,” Jack started. “Someone needs to stop him.”

“Blue, you’re goin’ to get yourself killed.”

“I’d rather sacrifice myself than letting about twenty or so people die, Piper,” he explained to her, looking her straight in the eye. 

Letting go of his arm, she said, “I’m coming with you.”

_I’d prefer you’d stay behind so you don’t get hurt. I don’t want you getting hurt on my watch._ But that wasn’t what he said aloud. “Fine, your funeral. C’mon.”

The two exited the _House of Tomorrow_ , weapons at the ready. The power armored raider had already re-equipped himself with the Fat Man. All the settlers had hidden inside the houses along with the other companions. 

“Follow my lead,” Jack whispered to Piper, who nodded in response. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted MacCready inside one of the other houses, rifle sticking out the window. A smile crept onto Jack’s lips. _Let’s do this._

“Man, I could sure use my _rifle_ right now,” he used the code word again. Before he knew it, MacCready had shot the Fat Man out of the raider’s metal hands once again. “Go!”

The two stormed the raider, Piper firing with her 10mm and Jack running ahead to grab his M1 Garand. Just as he reached his rifle, the raider threw his metal fist at him, hitting him in the chest and throwing him back a few feet. The punch knocked the wind out of him. Piper ran to his side, helping him up.

“Finally got my _rifle!_ ” Another sniper shot rang out from MacCready’s rifle, breaking the power armor chest plate.

“Oh, fuck this!” the raider shouted, turning around and heading for the bridge.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jack shouted, rapidly shooting at him as he fled. Eventually, the raider fell to the ground. Blood poured out of a rip in the frame, pooling beneath him. All the settlers slowly emerged from safety, getting to cleaning up the raider bodies right away. 

Jack and Piper swiftly trotted back to the old home to check up on Kendall. “How’s he holdin’ up?”

The medic looked up, sorrow painted on his face. “There’s nothing I can do,” he explained. “The bullet pierced his heart. We can only make him comfortable as he passes.”

His chest tightened at the news, making it difficult to breathe. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do?” Jack questioned, tightening his hands into fists. 

“Yes. There is absolutely nothing I can do,” Michael told him matter-of-factly. “I’ll give you a moment.” He excused himself from the house, leaving them alone.

Jack knelt down next to the pre-war ghoul. “Kendall.”

“H-Hey there, B-Bullseye,” he replied, coughing. “Take c-care of the world while I’m g-gone… will ya?”

“Definitely.” Jack answered his question, gripping onto his friend’s hand. He looked back at Piper for a moment. She gave him a weak smile. _Too kind._ “We all will.” 

“T-Thank ya,” Kendall said with another cough, squeezing his hand and taking his last breath.

The former soldier let his old friend’s hand fall out of his own as he stood up. “He’s gone.”

Michael walked back in, hands folded. “I… I’m sorry. We’ll bury him as soon as we can.”

“Are you gonna be alright, Blue?” Piper asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He was the last pre-war person I knew. And now he’s gone.”

She gave him a smile. “If you need to vent at all, I’m here. If you need anything- anything at all, you tell me.”

“Thank you, Piper.” _You’re too good, too nice for me._

As Jack watched Kendall’s body be scooped up and carried out of his pre-war house, he made a promise to protect the Commonwealth as best as he could- with his companions by his side.


	4. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the fall begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start reading, I'd like to mention that the first scene in this chapter is inspired by [Shellbacker's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shellbacker/pseuds/Shellbacker) chapter 3 of [Story of the Century.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7508785/chapters/17069227) (It's a really great fic and I recommend you take the time to read it!)
> 
> Alright, on to the chapter. Enjoy.

Rain fell hard on the settlement, enveloping the former town in the scent of petrichor and a depressing undertone. The weather may have given off a melancholic vibe, but Piper thanked whatever God that was watching over them that it wasn’t a rad storm. Sitting on the couch in front of the window inside the _Home of Tomorrow_ , she watched the rain pitter-pat on the ground. She had to admit, rain storms such as these did calm her.

But right now, she didn’t need something to calm her. Piper needed something to _distract her_ \- from Jack, shirtless, the wound in his shoulder being prodded at by Michael.

She glanced over at him for moment, watching as Michael dug around in Jack’s bare shoulder with a pair of tweezers, looking for the bullet that had hit him. “This damn bullet is lodged in your trapezius,” he explained. “If it had been a little higher and more to the right, it would have hit your carotid artery in your neck. You’re lucky.”

Jack winced in pain, biting his lip. “Where’d you learn all that? I had just assumed everyone had completely forgotten about anatomy stuff like that.”

“Pre-war books,” Michael explained, pulling out a small chunk of lead out of his shoulder with the tweezers. Piper attempted to pry her eyes away from the scene, with no avail. Her eyes traveled everywhere that wasn’t the inside of the house. His shoulder was caked with blood, but she didn’t care. His body was covered with faded scars. Piper wanted to so desperately reach out and touch the scars and learn the story behind every one. Jack sat with great posture, allowing her eyes to scan every part of his body freely. She hated herself for staring at him. She adverted her eyes momentarily, but they slowly gravitated back to him, all the while unwanted and unneeded thoughts plagued her mind. Her green eyes locked with his hazy blue ones for several seconds. She gave an odd smile, and he gave one in return. As he looked away, Piper let out a silent sigh of relief. _God, I’m a mess._

The day that the two had first met flooded to Piper’s mind. She remembered locking eyes with the vault dweller shortly after tricking Danny into opening the main gate, just as they did now. As she looked over his bare chest and abdomen again, Piper could feel her body temperature rise, most of it going to her face. She looked back through the window before Jack or the medic could realize how flustered she was truly becoming. Piper needed to get out of the room. She needed to _leave._

As she stood up, she began to feel light-headed and grabbed onto the wall, bracing for the impact if she were to fall over. Piper quickly regained her balance, and hurried out of the house and into the torrential rain. She didn’t care if the cold rain soaked her, she needed something cold to cool her down. Piper leaned against the wall of the house, letting the rain fall on her. The precipitation showered over Sanctuary, cleansing it of its dirt, just as it did Piper’s mind. Finally, the intrepid reporter ran to the house opposite of Jack’s pre-war one, getting out of the rain before it could soak through her clothes.

Just as her normal thoughts began to return to her, Piper regretted sitting out in the rain. She peeled off her wet trench coat, stepping inside the decrepit home and slipping away into one of the back rooms. She replaced her soaked tan undershirt, now a gross and matte brown, with a flannel shirt that was lying around. Leaning against the wall of one of the rooms, she let out a frustrated sigh while the rain continued to fall on the ghost of the former neighborhood. The rain had reduced to a steady fall. Fog creeped into the house and settled, just as those unwanted thoughts had creeped into Piper’s head.

Piper ran a hand through her soaked hair, combing it with her own fingers. She wouldn’t dare return to the house while Jack was still in there. She mentally kicked herself for feeling like that- there were so many things wrong with _all of it._ The man was obviously still devastated over his late wife’s death. Whatever it was that she was beginning to feel for the pre-war man was something she did _not_ want to get entangled in, nor did she need it. Piper didn’t have time for something like that, what with Nat, the paper, and now traveling with Jack. 

But _my god,_ she was wondering if this man would prove her wrong. _So, won’t you come around and prove me wrong?_

Heavy and noisy footsteps echoed through the house. Piper focused on them, pulling her out of her thoughts. The footsteps reminded her of her father’s footsteps when he was still alive. She always knew that he was home from his watch by the sound of his footsteps walking through the door and causing the wood floor to creak. But it wasn’t her father who stepped into the room. As Piper looked up, she spotted Jack leaning against the door frame with a small grin on his face. _God, don’t do that, Blue._ He wore his white tank top, and donned a bandage around his shoulder.

“Hey, Pipes. I uh…. I gotta head out,” he began, using an odd nickname. “Got some jobs I need to take care of.”

She was almost glad that he’d be leaving, but confused as to why he’d use that stupid nickname. “Fine by me, but what’s with the damn nickname?”

“Oh, uh… I-I mean you have a n-nickname for me, so I thought it’d be even?”

Piper shrugged. “Fair enough, but please, don’t use it. It’s… no offense… sorta stupid.” 

The former soldier looked down at the ground for a moment and then back at Piper. “Anyways, I’m gonna get goin’.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright with your shoulder all screwed up?” the reporter asked, sitting up straighter. _Quit worryin’._

“I’ll be fine, Piper,” he told her, trying to hold a smile. “Oh, and- the guys are burying Kendall’s body. Could you just… make sure everything goes smoothly while I’m gone?”

She noticed the attempted smile slowly fade into a frown. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna head out, now,” he thanked her, saluted, and then left the house in silence. Piper couldn’t blame him for wanting to get away from Sanctuary.

* * *

Boredom overcame the usually busy reporter, and said boredom lead her back to her home in Diamond City while Jack was out. She missed the buzz and busy atmosphere that the Great Green Jewel gave off. The city was filled with the murmurs of people chatting and negotiating while some shopped in the market or ate a meal. The crisp afternoon air breathed new life into both the people of the city and into Piper’s lungs. Before she knew it, Nat was running towards her at full speed and nearly knocked her over as she jumped into a hug.

“Oomph, hey kiddo!” Piper greeted her little sister, returning the hug. “Has Ellie been treatin’ you well over at the agency?”

Yeah,” Nat began. “She even helped with my homework.”

 _Ellie is a damn saint._ “That’s great, Nat! I owe her. Hey, do you wanna go get some noodles while I’m here? I got some caps while I was in Sanctuary.”

“Let’s do it!” Nat exclaimed. The two Wright sisters made their way to Takahashi’s noodle stand, paid for their food, and sat down at the bar. 

Travis’s voice beamed through the radio. He had finally gained his confidence after Jack had helped him shortly after he first visited Diamond City. “And next up, we’ve got Undecided by Ella Fitzgerald, for your listening pleasure.”

Out of all the songs on the radio, this one had to be Piper’s favorite. She remembered sitting back home at her old settlement, listening to the host prior to Travis tell stories about Diamond City and then playing Undecided. It slowly became her favorite song on the radio station (aside from Magnolia’s songs) and further fueled her want to move to the big city.

But right now, the song read Piper’s mind. _First you say you do, and then you don’t. And then you say you will, and then you won’t. You’re undecided now, so what are you gonna do?_ The song seemed to nag at her. She didn’t know what the hell she was feeling for her new friend, the Vault Dweller. The reporter stayed quiet, listening to the song mock her as she slurped her noodles.

_Now you want to play, and then its no. And when you say you’ll stay, that’s when it’s no. You’re undecided now, so what are you gonna do?_

_I’ve been sittin’ on a fence, and it doesn’t make much sense, ‘cause you keep me in suspense, and you know it. Then you promise to return, when you don’t I really burn, well I guess I’ll never learn and I show it._

“Piper?” her sister called out, while she ignored her, still listening to the song.

_If you’ve got a heart, and if you’re kind, then don’t leave us apart, make up your mind. You’re undecided now, so what are you gonna do?_

The world around her froze, and she only paid attention to the song. _Now, if you don’t love me, I’d wish you’d say so. I love you so much, honey, I just got to know. I’m just a fool for you, what are you gonna do?_

“Piper, you alright?” Nat called again, as the song faded out. 

“W-What? Y-Yeah, yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I said your name like five times,” she told her. “And, you’re being super quiet. That really isn’t like you.”

Piper eyed her sister for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, slurping up another noodle. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“What ‘bout, big sis?” the younger Wright sister asked.

"Adult stuff."

“Aw, come on, Piper. You can tell your little sis. Please?”

“Alright,” Piper gave in with a sigh. “I’m just having super conflicting… thoughts… about Jack.”

“Jack?” Nat said, ears perked up and her posture suddenly changing. “Do you _love_ him?” she asked in a mocking tone.

“W-What? No! I never said that!” Piper told her, cheeks burning as if they were the surface of the sun.

“Well, do you have a _crush_ on him?” Nat continued, still using that damn mocking tone of voice.

 _No, you don’t. And you never will._ “Well, no…. or… maybe… a little bit. But it’s just a small one!” she exclaimed. “I don’t love him, and I never will!” _You will never love him. He is pre-war. He lost his wife. And now, his only son. Quit dreamin’._

“Surrrrrrrreee,” the younger sister said, returning to eating her noodles, while Piper did the same.

* * *

Inside the dark house, Piper sat on the couch, reading an issue of Grognak the Barbarian. If she couldn’t get away from her thoughts with a visit back to the city or with music from the radio, then reading would have to do. She had always been a fan of the old pre-war comic books. Her father would do his best to find a copy of one while he was out on watch duty. The comics brought back bittersweet memories of the nights she’d awake from a nightmare, and her father would cheer her up with a new issue of Grognak. 

_Those were the days,_ Piper thought.

Before she knew it, the clock read _4:31am._ As she looked up from the clock, a familiar face stepped through the door, and her anxiety levels rose. “Jack? What’re you doing here? I thought you were going to be gone longer.”

The vault dweller shrugged. “Desdemona didn’t need me anymore over at the Railroad HQ,” he explained. “I got everything done early. So, what’re you up to?”

“Just… reading issue 33 of Grognak the Barbarian,” Piper explained.

“Oh, really? That’s my favorite issue. Used to read it all the time before the bombs dropped,” he told her, his head dropping as he leaned against the wall. 

Even with his head slightly dropped, Piper could see the sadness in his hazy blue eyes. “Hey, uh… do you want to play Blast Radius? I have the box somewhere…”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

“Alright,” she said, hanging off the couch to look underneath it for the board game. “It’s already four in the morning, so there’s no point in sleeping now. Here it is.”

The two sat down on the floor in front of the table and set up the board game, playing it until the sun rose.


	5. Contrast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the pre-war vault dweller, the old world can sometimes bleed together with the new world.

Jack had one thing set in his mind. He needed to go to the vault. His priority was to retrieve Nora’s ring. He never grabbed it when he was first awoken, thinking they’d be married forever. Taking the ring now would lead him on the road to recovering.

Or so he thought.

His PTSD had begun to act up again since he left to take care of a few missions for the Railroad, and now was no exception. As Jack and Piper returned to Sanctuary, the world before him flashed to an old world from his distant past. Green grass, cool blue skies, and a bustling neighborhood. Where Piper stood before the flashback, Nora now stood. _They’re so much alike, you know. At least in looks._ The flashback was extremely vivid. The scent of crisp autumn air lingered, eventually fading out into the odor of nuclear fallout. With one blink of Jack’s eyes, he stood back in the post-apocalyptic world of Boston once more.

Jack let out a defeated sigh. He couldn’t go back to the world he once knew. And it frustrated him like nobody’s business. He was stuck in this hell of a world, fighting off both physical threats and the ones created by his brain. And he couldn’t go back.

Frank Sinatra’s voice beamed through the speaker on his Pip-Boy. _Over and over I keep going over the world we knew, once when you walked beside me. That inconceivable, that unbelieveable world we knew, when we two were in love._ He flipped off the radio, leaving himself and his companion in complete dead silence. The only sound was their feet against the broken pavement, followed by the wood of the bridge.

Neither the former soldier or the reporter spoke a word. It was almost if Piper knew that now wasn’t the time to say anything. Jack led her to the vault, still silent. As they went down, the lift shook and screeched. The world flashed to the day the bombs dropped for just a moment, the flames of destruction covering the earth. An undesired wave of vertigo washed over Jack as he returned to the post-war world. He closed his eyes and held onto his bag with a tight fist as they descended into the frozen vault, his knuckles turning white.

As the screeching of metal came to a halt, the pre-war artifact opened his eyes. Beside him stood all his neighbors, shaking with anxiety and fear. Nora held Shaun in her arms before giving Jack a reassuring squeeze of his hand. He closed his eyes once more, and opened them to find that another flashback had hit him. He was beginning to regret coming back to the vault.

_“Right this way.”_

_“’Prepared for the future,’ right?”_

_“This is our new home.”_

The words echoed in his head. The words of people long gone. Just some skeletons discarded on the cold metal floor. He kicked the remains of the vault scientists, silently cursing them for stripping his entire life away from him.

Their boots clanked across the floor. Jack could tell that Piper wanted to say something, _anything,_ but kept quiet. Every time he looked over at her, she’d be fiddling with anything she could. One moment, she’d be twisting the buttons on her coat, the next, she’d be messing with her gloves. After a few more minutes of her fidgeting, she finally said something just as they were getting closer to the cryopods.

“God, it’s quiet,” she spoke in a hushed voice. Jack gave her a quick glare, and she looked back down at her hands, toying with a string that came off the sowed stitches of her glove.

Eventually, the pair reached the cold confines of the cryopod room. His and Piper’s boots made imprints on the extremely thin layer of ice on the metal floor. Piper stopped in her own tracks, looking inside the other pods while Jack made his way to Nora’s frozen casket. He went to the controls, pulling on the lever to open the pod. It made a popping noise as the pod released air with it’s opening.

Piper became visible in Jack’s peripherals. “Is… is that who I think it is?” she asked, not sounding like herself. Her voice lacked the usual confidence and perkiness it held, replaced with concern and sorrow. “You okay?”

Jack gave no response as he gripped his late wife’s cold hand. _I’m so sorry, N._ He slipped the ring off Nora’s left hand. He gave an empty chuckle, looking down at the ring. “Next time we meet, Nora, it’s forever.”

_Forever. That’s quite a long time, isn’t it, Bullseye? Next time we meet, it’s forever._

Her voice echoed in his head as he looked back up to her body. The blood that was splattered across her chest created a purple color against the blue of her vault suit. Jack wiped the tears that threatened to escape from his eyes, a smile forming. Even if it really wasn’t her voice, it was still comforting to know that he would never forget the way she was.

Perhaps it was a good idea to come down here. Perhaps things would start to look up.

 _Come on, you’ve gotta give me a proper burial,_ Nora’s voice nagged in his head.

 _Your wish is my command,_ Jack thought, carefully pulling her body out of the pod and carrying her out of the vault, bridal style, with Piper in tow.

* * *

“Come on, Blue, you’ve gotta give me some explanation,” Piper finally spoke for the first time since she asked about Nora. “We buryin’ her?”

Gently placing Nora’s body down in the dead grass, Jack nodded. “Grab a shovel,” he said, grabbing one himself. He settled on burying her next to Kendall’s body behind his bunker home. By the time they were done, the sun had gone down. A wooden cross stood beside another cross, names of two pre-war citizens carved into the radiated wood. Hubflowers rested at the base alongside lit candles, light projected in every direction.

“Thank you,” Jack breathed out. “For your help. I really appreciate it, Piper.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” Piper began. “Helping out your friend bury their late wife.”

Jack locked eyes with the reporter. “Sorry,” she blurted out, scratching the back of her head anxiously. “That was too soon, wasn’t it?”

His eyes darted to the dirt that his deceased wife laid under, and then back up at Piper. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it. Come on, it's getting late."

The entirety of Sanctuary was dead quiet, aside from the hum of generators and crickets. The two sat down on a bench, admiring the night sky. The moon was full, with millions of stars accompanying it. Nobody else seemed to be up, besides the few on their patrols and of course, Jack and Piper. The former soldier felt at ease for once. There were many things he could be worrying about; the Institute, his settlements, and more.  And finally, he found comfort knowing that the stars were still here after two hundred years and always will be. He found comfort in the bright moon that shone above him, illuminating the settlement with no need for any kind of light. He found comfort in what was happening now, not worrying about things in the future. For once, Jack was living in the moment, something he never felt he’d be able to do.

Yet here he was, doing _exactly that_ , despite the circumstances of the past month.

Jack leaned back against the bench, still admiring the night sky. The air was crisp and refreshing, burning his lungs in the best way.

After a few moments of admiration of the calm atmosphere, Piper spoke up. “You know… you sure do have a talent for finding trouble, don’t ya?”

His eyes flickered from the sky to his companion. “I mean, I guess so. I suppose it just finds me,” Jack replied.

“I’m not really one to judge,” Piper began. “To be honest with you, Blue, it’s nice to not be doin’ it alone for once. In my line of work, anything can go sour in the matter of seconds.”

“I can only imagine. Didn’t you once say something about ‘reporters aren’t successful until someone threatens their life,’ and ‘I must be really successful’?” he asked, crossing his feet.

“Oh, _heck yeah._ I’ve been shot at, poisoned, nearly executed… Hell, recently they’ve been calling the lock-up over in Diamond City the ‘Piper Suite,’” she explained, a grin plastered across her face. “Anything for a story, I suppose! Such is life.”

“ _Wait,_ wait, wait a second. You were _poisoned?_ ” Jack questioned, sitting up straight and holding tightly to the bench arm.

“You kidding? I barely had the paper going before I got poisoned! First time, I’d published an article about this cartel of caravans that had been drivin’ up food prices back in the big city. Article went over pretty well, even got a boycott of their goods started. So, I figured I’d drop by the Dugout Inn for a victory drink.

“I had already taken a swig when I ultimately realized something was wrong. Vadim wasn’t there, and the beer tasted off- more so than usual. And then, I started feelin’ woozy. I have _no clue_ what they slipped me, but I knew I had to _get it out._ ”

Jack was most certainly intrigued. He admired her story telling, and found himself smiling like an idiot. “What did you do, then?”

“Well, I needed something, _anything_ to wash it out,” Piper continued. “I was lookin’ around for something, and there it is. The still. And I just… freakin’ start chuggin’ moonshine like it’s nobody’s business. To be honest, I’m still not a hundred percent convinced it was better than just dying from the poison. But, it worked, nonetheless. I guess while I was passed out on the floor, security managed to grab the bartender. He eventually ratted out his bosses, and they got to spend some time in the pen.”

“Christ, Piper. And I’m guessing that execution didn’t exactly take, considering you’re sitting next to me?” he joked.

“Yeah, _thank God._ I was working on a story about irradiated drinking water at Bunker Hill,” Piper began to explain her next story. “I traced the water back to its source in these old sewer tunnels. And you know what I find there? Heh, the _Children of Atom,_ setting up like they own the place. Unfortunately, they aren’t exactly fond of reporters. So, to atone to my trespassing of their ‘territory,’ they decide to make _me_ their sacrifice to Atom.

“So, here I am, about to get the boot into this huge-ass sewer pipe, when I blurt out, ‘Atom! He reveals himself!’ And you know what? They friggin’ buy it! They pulled me back from the ledge, and gave me their own little induction ceremony. You’re looking at an official acolyte of atom! In the end, it took me a few days to finally escape, and got Bunker Hill security to clean the place.”

“You sure have lead an amazing life, Piper,” he said, sitting forward on the bench and flashing her a smile.

“Sure have,” she began, returning the friendly smile. “But honestly, now that I’m out here with you, I feel like I’m just getting started, you know? Getting in trouble… it’s what folks like us do, you know? You and I… we’re risking our lives for the folks of the Commonwealth, so they can have another chance. And we still got a long road ahead of us! And we do it not for praise or glory. But because it’s the right thing to do. Anyways, I just want you to know, that… I-I’m really happy to be along for the ride. I’ve needed to do something like this for a long time- going out and making a difference outside of the paper.”

 _Take the chance, Jack. Make a move, test the waters!_ His inside voice screamed in the back of his head. _Do it! Do it, do it, do it!_ Jack couldn’t argue with himself. “To be quite honest, I like havin’ ya close. I wouldn’t want it to be any other way,” he toyed, a sly smile on his face.

He immediately realized what he had just done. _You just buried your late wife and you’re flirting with the one who helped you. Smooth, Jackson. Real fucking smooth._

 _“Oh,”_ Piper began, her face turning red from ear to ear. “T-Thanks, Blue! That’s… that’s awfully, uh, s-sweet! And… unexpected of you.” _Score._ “Anyways… uh… t-thanks for listening, Jack! Too few c-can be bothered.”

“Hey, no problem,” Jack told her, resting his hand on his shoulder. His smile faded for a moment, and an uncomfortable silence sat in the air for a few seconds before he made a split decision. ”Guess it’s my time to share, ain’t it?”

Piper’s ears perked up, her usual confident posture and composure returning. “Well, you listened to me ramble, so I guess it would be even. Go crazy.”

The former soldier scratched his head, trying to figure out how to explain. “You know what Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is, right?” he asked, and the intrepid reporter nodded. “Well, it seems the fates have decided it’s time for it to start acting up again.”

He was afraid of her reaction, how she’d take it. Before the bombs dropped, mental illnesses of the such were considered taboo for the most part. Jack was lucky enough to not be thrown out on the streets like many war vets. He was hoping that perhaps things were different now.

“Huh, really? I wouldn’t be surprised, since you said you were a soldier pre-war,” Piper told him, a smile spreading across her face. “You know, it’s sorta cool-”

 _“What?”_ Jack said, nearly falling off the bench. That was _not_ the response he was expecting _at all._

“By sorta cool,” Piper began again. “I mean it’s neat how you have a million other things on your mind all at once, and still manage to juggle that, while fighting through the challenge that is the wasteland. Honest to God, Blue, you could end up being a real inspiration.”

“Oh, well… thanks, I guess,” he replied, letting out a sigh of relief. “I was just… nervous as to what you’d say, you know? Mental illnesses like that wasn’t exactly something people talked about.”

Perhaps things really did change.

“Blue, you don’t have to be anxious about my reaction,” she reassured him. “Everyone’s got their flaws, nobody’s perfect!”

“Thanks, Piper,” he gave her a toothy grin. “You know, it feels better to get that off my shoulders.”

“No problem! Now, it’s gettin’ pretty late, we should probably hit the hay.”

* * *

As content as he was with this day, Jack couldn’t sleep to save his life. _Damned insomnia._ He laid in a bed that wasn’t his own, in a home that wasn’t his either. Jack couldn’t bare sleeping in the home that housed his son and wife with Piper in it. There were too many similarities between this reporter that he had grown intrigued by and his late wife to be comfortable with that. Yet, the same reporter was sleeping in the room across from him. He wished he just _get her out of his goddamn mind_ and get to sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, _nothing would work._

 _Admit it, will ya? You can’t get her out of your head because you don’t_ want _her out of your head._

Jack shushed his own inside voice, turning over in his bed and closing his eyes tight. God, he didn’t _fucking_ want this. He didn’t want it, didn’t need it, and he wouldn’t have it.

He’d just have to deal with it. He’d get over it eventually. _God, I do hope so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While rewriting this, I've realized how many times Piper and Jack have hopped between Sanctuary and Diamond City. Hoo boy, I really hope this doesn't seem too confusing with their settlement hopping. -_-
> 
> Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> (P.S, did you find the subtle similarity I wrote in between Piper and Nora? Here's a clue: the words they use.)


	6. Sticks and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words have psychological wounds that never heal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's rewrite has been four weeks in the making, and counts in at 3,544 words. I've had good times with this chapter, I've had bad times with this chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and be sure to let me know how you're liking the fic so far in the comments.
> 
> Without further adieu, here is chapter six, Sticks and Stones.

Having nightmares wasn’t uncommon for Piper. Most of them were always the same thing, all revolving around her father’s death. Whether it be watching her father die, or reliving the moment she found out. This time would be no exception.

But tonight, it was worse.

The reporter awoke abruptly just like any other time she had a nightmare. Piper knew the routine; sit up, get some water, calm down, then go back to sleep. Yet, when she found she couldn’t move, fear enveloped her. She felt as if a thousand bricks were stacked up on her chest and stomach, making it uncomfortable and hard to breath. _Goddammit, not again._ She had experienced this before. _Sleep paralysis,_ Nick had once told her. It wasn’t until after her father passed that she began having these horrifying experiences. Yet, having it after a nightmare was an entirely new ball game for her- a terrifying one.

Piper’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the room. She looked around the dark room. It didn’t seem to be the house she fell asleep in, but her childhood residence. A shadowy figure marched into the room, the silhouette matching the shape of her father. A rifle hung from the shadow’s shoulder, and he wore that damn hat that Piper had held onto for so long.

It was all too familiar. She was reliving the last night she saw her father, while being unable to move or speak or _do anything_ but just watch. The figure slowly made its way to her side of the bed, placing the worn press cap on the table next to the bed. Its voice was eerie, an echo of the past.

_“G’night, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?"_

Piper wanted to say something, _anything_ to the shadow of her father. The words fit properly in her mind, but failed to escape her throat. _Dad, don’t fucking leave. Please._ But that was the thing with sleep paralysis- you couldn’t do _anything_ about it. No moving, no screaming… _nothing._ It killed her to relive her last moment with her beloved father without being able to interact. A part of her told her to fight against the paralysis, as if she could change the outcome that was the death of her only parent. He kneeled beside her bed, kissing her on the forehead. As the shadow slowly fled the room, his last words seemed to bounce off the walls. _I’ll see you tomorrow._  

She could have been  _stabbed-_  anything else. It would have hurt a thousand times less than hearing her father’s last words to her.

The words continued to fill the room like a poisonous gas would. Piper closed her eyes as hard as she could to escape the darkness of her sleep paralysis-induced childhood home, but it didn’t make the whispers go away. After what seemed like hours, the weight on her chest became even heavier. Gasping and fighting for air, she opened her eyes and found herself back in the room Jack had let her sleep in. She almost gave herself whiplash as she sat up, taking in the crisp air that leaked through the house’s many holes as the heaviness disappeared.

Her eyes wandered over to the bedside table, staring at the worn press cap. Every time she blinked, she could see her father resting the cap on the table. She stifled back a whimper, followed by wet tears escaping her mossy-green eyes. Piper’s whimpers came with a halfhearted, melancholy laugh. She muffled her sad laughter with her hand in an attempt to keep quiet. Piper didn’t need to wake up Jack; he didn’t get enough sleep as it was, and she didn’t need to be the one to worsen his insomnia.

Eventually, her shoulders stopped shaking, along with her crying and laughing. Piper wiped the tears from her eyes. It had been _ten_ years, she needed to get over it. Taking a quick sip from her purified water, Piper laid back down, clutching the hat to her chest. It was only minutes before the reporter slipped back into a dreamless and restless sleep.

* * *

 

_“I don’t know where I am supposed to go, so I might just take my pride and go.”_

A muffled melody reached the groggy reporter’s ears, through her closed door. Piper sat in her bed, doing nothing but listening to the song. She couldn’t push herself to get up and get ready for the day. She was enjoying the soft singing too much.

_“Some people, they know, know everything but I know that they don’t know my heart.”_

She couldn’t have been too sure, but it sounded like Jack’s voice. _Pre-war people must have been amazing singers. Damn._

_“Cause I, oh yeah, I believe in love. And I hope I can show you what I mean. And I don’t believe love’s for me, oh. So, won’t you come around and prove me wrong?”_

Finally, Piper got out of the bed that had encased her in fear during the night, but never stopped listening to the words. She found that the words read her mind as she pulled on her boots.

_“Won’t walk the world any different, and my path won’t change until you make a wall and make me fall, and break me down. I don’t know, no, I don’t know if I wrote this song in vain, vain, in vain, vain.”_

_Why is every song I listen to so damn relatable?_ Piper thought, sighing out loud. She wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way, _dammit._ She had too many other things going on. As the song seemed to flawlessly explain, _I don’t believe love’s for me._ She wasn’t ready for this shit. Not with Nat, the paper, and the seemingly never-ending string of death threats. While her mouth subconsciously curled into an idiotic smile, her mind screamed _no._

_So, won’t you come around and prove me wrong?_

A gentle knock on the wooded and irradiated door pulled Piper from her mind. She got so caught up in her own thoughts, that she never heard Jack stop singing or heard his footsteps. Realizing she still looked like a total _mess_ , she quickly ran a brush through her hair and pulled on her trench coat. Grabbing her hat from the bedside table, she fixed it on her head before greeting Jack at her door with a smile.

“Mornin’ Piper,” he said, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. Perhaps it was because she had listened to him sing for the first time, or maybe he just suppressed it, but Piper noticed his Bostonian accent for the first time. Unlike many other people in the Commonwealth, his accent was much lighter and more understandable. “You a fan of coffee?”

The reporter chuckled. “C’mon, Blue. I write for a livin’. Course I am,” she answered, taking the offered cup from him. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You hungry? I made some mirelurk egg omelets.”

“You _cook?”_ Piper asked, taking a sip from her coffee.

“Of course,” Jack laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, don’t want it to get cold.”

Piper followed him to the main room and sat down at the table where the omelet was prepared. She sat at the chair and quickly dug in, hunger gnawing away at her. Looking out the window, she took in the beautiful scene of the sunrise. The sky almost seemed to set the leafless trees on fire, and the whole world seemed to have an orange-red glow to it. The horizon line was a deep blueish-purple that had bled into the oranges, reds, and pinks of the sky. It was moments like these that Piper realized how gorgeous and fascinating this world could be, despite the earth below her being scorched by the flames of yesterday. Even if there wasn’t much life left now as there was then, there was still _life._ It could be seen in the work people have done in the past two-hundred years to give the world some kind of second chance. It could be seen in the ancient stars, in the trees that outlived most of the world, and in the sky that had stayed for so long, letting the moon return each night and the sun return each morning.

The wars of the past seemed so pointless; useless. How did the people of the old world _not_ fall in love with the glow and warmth of the sun, the vibrant colors of the sky, and the ancient life of the Earth itself?

“It’s crazy,” Jack chuckled, arms crossed. “It’s the same sky that I looked at two-hundred years ago.”

The reporter looked up from her meal. He had a point. “Yeah. I’ve… never really thought about it that way.”

“I just… it’s seems funny to me. How the same sun and moon you see today is the same one I saw so long ago,” he mused. “The two worlds we’re from aren’t so different.”

“Psh, you think?” Piper scoffed. “From what you told me in that interview, Blue, there’s not much difference between my world and your world.”

Jack shook his head. “I know, I get that, it’s just… sometimes I go on philosophical rants, and that happened to be one of ‘em. Sorry.”

 _There you go again, Wright. Saying things before you think them through. Good goin’._ She shook it off, returning to her food while they both continued to watch the same sky, from different mindsets.

* * *

 

“Why the hell are we going back to Diamond City again, Blue?”

“I know we’ve made a shit ton of trips from there and back already, but I really need to get away from Sanctuary, and we ran out of my good alcohol back at home,” Jack answered.

“So… you’ve got no good reason?”

“I’ve got no good reason.”

The two approached the green and rusty gate, watching it rise from the ground and allowing them to enter. As they stepped through the entrance, Nat sprinted to Piper’s side, yelling her name.

“Piper! Guess what happened while you were gone! Sheng Kowalski tried to kiss me!” the younger Wright sister squealed.

 _“No,”_ she replied with a dramatic tone. “What’d ya do?”

“I knocked him on his ass,” Nat admitted. “I’ve got detention.”

”Oh, Nat, my beloved sister, never change. But you’re _super_ grounded.”

“Aw, come on!” Nat complained, retreating to the Publick.

Jack found himself smiling at the scene. “You handled that pretty well.”

“Yeah,” Piper began, a grin forming. “You learn how to deal with this stuff after ten years. Try raising a little sister sometime.”

 _I could listen to her speak for hours_ , Jack thought to himself. _Dammit, you’re doing it again. Quit it._ “Come on, let’s go to the Dugout.”

He could hear the intrepid reporter snicker behind him. “Well, I won’t blame you if you need to get drunk to get through your day…”

“I’ll have you know, _Ms. Wright,_ that I have a high alcohol tolerance,” Jack elaborated, standing with perfect posture and speaking in a confident tone.

“Alright then, pretty boy,” Piper gibed. “Let’s put it to a test, then! What’re we waitin’ for?”

The two traversed through the commotion filled city, while Jack pointed out all the important parts of Fenway Park. _Man, this brings back memories._ Nostalgia sure was a damn crazy thing. He could remember coming to watch the Red Sox play against other teams as a child, and even after him and Nora got married.

“Don’t listen to a thing that igit, Moe Cronin, tells ya,” Jack cautioned. “His view of how we played baseball is completely wrong. Nobody _ever_ got hurt. You see these bases? If you hit the ball out of the main park, you had to run around all of ‘em. A home run.”

“Christ, Blue. An enthusiast, I take it?” Piper said, crossing her arms.

“You playin’?” he asked. “I _loved_ baseball. ‘America’s favorite pastime.’ Don’t know if you could get more American than baseball.”

Eventually, after a history lesson on baseball from Jack, the two reached the Dugout Inn. The two sat down at the bar, ordering their drinks, when an old song popped into Jack’s head.

_I somehow knew you were there, lookin’ like you didn’t care. I reached for the change in my pocket, I counted the change in my pocket._

_I wanted to buy you a beer, I somehow near you were near. The bartender said it’s okay, the bartender said it’s okay…_

He smirked as he counted a handful of caps, looking up at Piper momentarily. “Vadim, get me your best whiskey and a beer for Piper over here.”

“Haha, anything for you, Jacky boy! How’s about the good ole’ Number Seven, yeah?” Vadim chatted.

“That stuff is still around here? Hell _yes._ ”

 “Alright, my good man! I’ll get it right to ya!” Vadim exclaimed before turning away to get the alcohol, while Jack placed his caps on the counter. “Alright, a whiskey for you, and a beer for our favorite reporter. Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Vadim,” both said in unison, cracking open their drinks and taking a sip.

Jack could feel the whiskey burn in his throat. “Verdammt,” he spoke in German. “Hits a bit harder after two-hundred years, then.” _(Damn.)_

“Can’t hold your alcohol, Blue?” Piper joked with a light punch to the shoulder.

“I in fact, _can,_ Piper,” Jack replied, throwing back a quick swig of his whiskey.

Just as Jack set down his bottle of whiskey, two men barged through the door of the Inn. An average height man walked through the door first, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He wore a trilby hat, his name written on a tag that stuck out of the hat. The tag read _Dennis._ He looked like one of the infamous Triggermen seen around at Goodneighbor, but something in him told him that this man was no average Triggerman. A taller, much thinner man walked in behind him. He looked like he could be broken over someone’s knee like a simple twig. A tag on his shirt read the name _Tom._

“Dennis and Tom are here!” Dennis exclaimed. “Vadim, what’cha got for me and ole Tommy over here?”

“You nasty mercenaries aren’t getting anything without paying!”

“Aw, come on, buddy, we’re regulars here! You gotta give us something,” Dennis insisted, pulling out a switchblade and pointing it at the Russian bartender.

Vadim put his hands up in a panic. “Fine, fine! Here,” he said, passing the two infamous mercs a few bottles of alcohol. Jack watched as they downed the alcohol in nothing flat.

“Hey Dennis, check it out. The Vault Dweller is here, the one who was frozen for two hundred years,” Tom said to his partner.

“No suh!” said Dennis, lightly pushing Jack. “Hey, Vaultie. What’re you doin’ here? Drownin’ out your sorrows?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jack retorted.

“Calm your liver, Vaultie. I’m just playin’ with ya,” the mercenary said. “Say, what’cha doin’ down here with little Miss Reporter? You two on a date? Or is she a replacement for that late wife of yours?”

 _Now you’ve crossed the damn line._ Jack stood up from his stool, coming face to face with the mercenary. Rage burned inside him. “Don’t bring Piper or my late wife into this.”

“Aw, he’s upset. Back away, Vaultie,” Dennis warned, shoving him away. The entire bar was watching now.

Jack shoved him back, anger getting the best of him. “Listen, you son of a bitch. You don’t call me Vaultie, and you don’t talk ‘bout my wife like that. Leave now with your shitty partner.”

“Now you’re askin’ for it, Vaultie!” the mercenary said, throwing a punch at Jack. He ducked underneath him, striking him in the chest.

 In the corner of his eye, he noticed the other mercenary going after Piper. As Jack quickly got out of Dennis’s reach, he watched Piper momentarily. As Tom attempted a roundhouse kick, the reporter grabbed his boot in midair, twisting his foot. The man fell to the ground, writhing in pain. _She’s got ‘em._ In his moment of distraction, Dennis had recovered and took the advantage. He spun Jack around, slugging him in the mouth.

_Come on, you can take him. Sic’ ‘em._

Jack wiped the blood from his lips and Dennis pulled out his switchblade. “C’mon, Vaultie, that all ya got?” he teased him once more. The mercenary rushed him, blade open. Before he could get a slice on him with the blade, the former soldier quickly knocked it out of his hands, sending it flying. He grabbed it out of midair, shoving it in the thigh of his enemy and turning it, opening the wound more. He pulled the knife out of his own thigh, throwing it to the ground.

“Your wife wouldn’t be impressed, Vaultie!”

A growl formed within Jack’s throat, and the rage he held in his chest was noticeable in his eyes. The snarl sounded nothing like the soft vault dweller, but a man broken by the wasteland. A killer. _Show him what you can do, killer._ Dennis rushed him once more, throwing punches at the vault dweller, every single one being blocked. Jack caught the last punch, twisting his arm and forcing him down onto one knee. The man cried in pain as he further twisted his arm beyond his flexibility. In what seemed like milliseconds, the other mercenary approached the two and kicked Jack in the head. In his blurry vision, he could just barely make out Piper laying on the floor beside him. His inside voice screamed. _Get up! Help her! Goddammit, save her!_

He felt a heavy boot on his chest. “Say goodnight, Vaultie,” the mercenary said, pointing a gun at Jack’s head. The former soldier quickly pulled his own knife from its sheathe and stabbed Dennis in the leg once more. The merc fell to the floor as Jack got up, his vision slowly returning. The other mercenary shot his 10mm at Jack, only to fail miserably as dodged every bullet and shoved the knife into Tom’s stomach. He fell to the floor, blood pooling below him as he was barely breathing.

Dennis finally made a return. Jack grabbed him by his arm, pulling him closer and kneeing him in the groin. The mercenary bent over, allowing the former soldier to grab an empty alcohol bottle and smash it over his head. Dennis fell to the ground, unconscious.

“Jacky boy!” Vadim exclaimed, sprinting to his side and shaking his hand. “Thank you, my good friend! They’ve been terrorizing my bar for long enough.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are the guards coming?”

Vadim nodded. “Yefim is getting them now.”

Jack quickly thanked him before rushing to Piper’s side. He helped her up as she groaned in pain. “You alright?”

“I-I’ll be fine,” she croaked, holding her hat to her head.

“What the hell did they do to you?” Jack asked, allowing her to lean up against him.

“One of ‘em h-hit me over the h-head with the b-butt of their pistol,” Piper admitted.

“Shit, we gotta get you to Doc Sun, in case you have a concussion,” he said, worry in his voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I could’ve stopped them from attackin’ you. They only wanted me, it seemed.”

“J-Jack, I’ll be fine… It isn’t your f-fault,” she tried to convince him.

“No. You got hurt on _my watch._ We’re going to Doctor Sun,” he argued.

Yefim and a group of Diamond City Guards burst through the door. One guard approached the two. “If this happens again, Vault Dweller, we’re locking your ass up too.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you too,” Jack jibed. The guard shook his head and continued forward, locking the two mercs up while one other guard patched up Tom.

“You almost killed both of ‘em. Watch yourself,” the same guard warned, dragging one of the mercenaries out the door.

Another guard approached the two. “I ain’t tellin’ ya who to be friends with, but be careful gettin’ chummy with the reporter. Well, at least she’s got you to keep her in check. You took care of those two mercs pretty well.”

Both turned red as tatos. Jack and Piper weren’t sure if the guard meant _‘getting chummy with the reporter,’_ and ‘ _at least she’s got you to keep her in check,’_  as in they were actually _together,_ but that was what they took it as.

“W-Well, uh, thanks for the compliment, I guess?” Jack said. “W-We’ve got to, uh, we’ve got to go.”

“Alright. Well, you two stay out of trouble,” the guard said as the two hurried out of the Dugout.

They were silent for a few minutes after leaving the Inn, until Piper spoke up, complaining. “God, my head hurts.”

“You alright?” Jack asked, stopping a few feet before her.

“Y-Yeah I’m…. f-fine,” Piper said, nearly falling over. “Damn… dizziness…”

“Alright, that’s it,” the former soldier said. “I’m picking you up.”

“W-What? N-No, I’m fine!” she exclaimed, to no avail. Jack picked her up, bridal style. “Goddammit, Blue. You know, I hate you sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I hate you too. With good reasoning and intentions, of course,” he said, carrying her to Doctor Sun’s office as the sun began to set over Diamond City.


	7. Significant Annoyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarcasm can definitely work wonders when you're trying to hide something, like the fact that you're definitely falling for someone that you know you really shouldn't be falling for.

“How ya feeling, Red?” Jack called out from across the small apartment that was Home Plate.

“I’m feeling _great,_ Blue,” the reporter replied with a sarcastic tone, sprawled out on the red couch. “I got knocked over the head by a mercenary with a damn pistol. I’m feeling mighty fine!”

“Jeez, sorry I asked.”

“Why the hell are we in Home Plate anyway, and not in the comforts of my own home?” Piper questioned, sitting up slightly to look over at her companion.

“Well, after I spent nearly all my caps on this place not too long ago, I had to clear out all these damn boxes,” he began to explain, stacking an empty box on top of other empty boxes. “I just sorta… shoved em in the corner. Might be something in here that’s useful. Y’never know.”

“And you never even thought about doing this when you bought the damn place?” retorted the Diamond City dame. 

“Oh, Piper, my dearest friend,” he began, turning around to face her. “I am a _very_ busy guy.”

Piper scoffed. “Yeah, sure you are. A busy man like you has stuff to do, like going to the Dugout to get whiskey and beat up some blood-thirsty mercs. Yeah, you’re a pretty busy guy.”

“Oh, hush.”

“Not to mention your _errands_ gave me this headache, Blue,” Piper continued, rubbing it in more as she lit a cigarette.

“You know, smokin’ ain’t gonna help ya there,” the former soldier said, further irritating Piper.

She exhaled smoke out of her mouth out of spite. “I never knew someone’s voice could make a headache worse.”

“Oh, come on, you know you _love me,_ ” Jack joked, returning to scavenging through the boxes, while Piper thanked God that he couldn’t see how red her face was.

 _Well…_ “Oh, of _course_ I do,” Piper said in response, making sure her tone was as sarcastic as possible. _Maybe you’re not wrong._

“Holy shit,” Jack mumbled under his breath. “Piper, come take a look at this.”

“Let me guess, you won the damn lottery,” she said, picking herself up off the couch, cigarette still in hand.

“You fucking wish,” he said, holding up what Piper could only describe as a small guitar.

“A guitar? What’s so great about a guitar?” she questioned, taking one last drag of her cigarette before dropping it in the nearby ashtray.

Jack stood up, approaching her with the instrument. “This isn’t just _any_ guitar, Red. This is a ukulele!”

“A uku-what now?”

“A ukulele. Kinda like a guitar, but… just sweeter sounding,” Jack explained, giving it a quick strum. “This needs some tuning.”

“You know how to play?” Piper asked, crossing her arms.

“Of course I do,” he retorted, twisting the tuners and strumming the strings to get the right sound. “There, that should do it. You wanna hear a song? You should know this one.”

Piper plopped down on the red couch beside him, head resting against the back. “Go for it, Blue. Woo me.”

The familiar rift to the beginning of an Ink Spots song echoed through the home. Piper had listened to almost all of their songs, yet still never knew how to distinguish between each song due to that damn rift that every one of their songs started with. _At least its catchy… if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it._

It came to no surprise to her that Jack was pretty good at playing the instrument; he could sing, he could help others, and he could make her fall for him, no matter how hard she tried to resist it.

As soon as he began singing, she knew which song it was. _“I don’t want to set the world on fire, I just want to start a flame in your heart. In my heart I have but one desire, and that one is you, no other will do._

_“I’ve lost all ambition for worldly acclaim, I just want to be the one you love. And with your admission that you feel the same, I’ll have reached the goal I’m dreaming of. Believe me, I don’t want to set the world on fire, I just want to start a flame in your heart.”_

“You’re really good at that, Blue,” Piper complimented him as he rested the ukulele against the couch.  _Like, too good._

“Finally, the first thing out of your mouth that hasn’t been sarcastic from you tonight,” he said, laughing. “Thanks, Red. My father taught me how to play.”

“By the way, what the hell is with the nickname?” Piper asked, an eyebrow raised.

Jack rested a hand on his thigh. “What, I can’t give you a nickname?”

“No, that’s not it… just… why’d you pick it?”

“Well, you know,” he began, trailing off a bit. “I m-mean, you’ve got the ‘blue’ nickname for me because of my vault suit, and your jacket’s red, so…”

”That makes sense,” Piper replied. “We sound even more like a jazz combo more than a traveling outfit, but you know, it works!”

“Glad you like the nickname. Took me _forever_ to come up with it,” Jack said, adding a bit of dramatic flair. “I’m gettin’ some noodles. Want to come with?”

“Why not. Might help the headache our mercenary buddies caused,” the reporter answered, emerging from her spot on the couch.

“Yeah, might help bring down your sarcasm levels a notch too,” Jack joked, earning a light, playful punch in the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get those noodles before we turn in for the night.”

* * *

 

The reporter and former soldier sat down at the noodle stand, waiting for Takahashi to come around and greet them with the same _nan-ni shimasho-ka_ as per usual.

“I feel like I’m in college again, eating all these damn noodles,” Jack said, taking a sip of his Nuka-Cola. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?” came the malfunctioning Japanese robot, to which Jack replied with a “yes.”

As the robot turned away to prepare their dinner, the two took the moment to enjoy the semi-silence of the baseball stadium-turned city. The walls of the shanty homes creaked, while the footsteps of playing children echoed throughout the city.

“This is kind of… nice,” the vault dweller spoke up, breaking the silence as Takahashi finally brought over their noodle bowls.

Piper nodded. “It isn’t often you get this much quiet time in the Commonwealth. But I guess such is life.”

“We gotta hang out here during the night more often, Red,” Jack said, digging into his noodles.

Just then, Nick approached the two, resting his hands on their shoulders. “Well, if it ain’t my favorite nosy reporter and my favorite vault dweller. What’re you two doin’ out here this late? It’s after midnight, now.”

“I think we should be asking you the same question,” Piper replied, turning around on the stool to face the synthetic detective.

“I’m getting Ellie take-out. Poor woman, she worked more than she needed to and burned herself out. She deserves the noodles, a raise, and then some,” Nick admitted. “Anyways, enough about me. You two on some date?”

It only took five words from the detective’s mouth to fluster them both, their faces burning.

“W-What? No, we’re j-just…” Piper stuttered, but was cut off by Jack’s sarcastic tone.

“Oh, _of c-course,_ we are Nick,” he joked, trying to pull the attention away from the fact that his face was as red as a Nuka-Cola Cherry bottle. “Nah, we’re just getting some d-dinner before we hit the hay.”

Nick chuckled. “Alright, well, don’t stay out for too long, lovebirds,” he continued to tease. “Oh, by the way… Jack, I’ve got a case that needs solving. You interested?”

“Yeah, I could help you out with the case. Want to tackle it in the morning?”

“Doesn’t make much difference to me,” Nick answered. “As long as it gets finished soon. It’s been burning a hole on my desk for quite some time now.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan! See you in the morning, Nick.”

“Yeah, take care,” the synth replied, taking the bowl of noodles from Takahashi. “I better take these to Ellie before she keels over. Night, you two.”

The two returned to their noodles. “See, I strive to have that level of friendship with people,” Jack mused. “Nick and Elle are practically soulmates.”

Piper lightly jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “Well, you’ve got me, don’t you?”

“What? I’ve only told you most of my life story,” Jack replied in a sarcastic tone. “We’re _only_ friends.”

The reporter shook her head. “You’re an ass.”

“I get that a lot,” he told her, twisting the noodles around his chopsticks before eating them. “I’m just getting back at you for earlier.”

“All jokes aside, Jack, you’re a pretty great person,” Piper said genuinely. “You’ve helped Sheffield, you’ve helped the people at Sanctuary and other settlements. You’re on your way to destroying the Commonwealth’s boogeyman… hell, you just accepted to help Nick on a case, and bring some kind of justice. Honestly, Blue, you’ve got somethin’ good going for ya.”

A smile formed on the vault dweller’s lips. “Thank you… that… means a lot, coming from you,” he began. “God knows I have a lot of blood on my hands.”

“That’s not something to be ashamed about Blue. Everyone has-“

“I never told you what happened when I was in China, did I?” Jack asked her, to which she shook her head. “I was on a mission doing God knows what. I don’t even remember if we had clear orders or not. But what I do remember was that we were getting our asses handed to us. Me, the lieutenant and my group were going through a bunch of buildings, and we… we found a Chinese family, huddled in a corner, scared out of their wits.

“You know what my lieutenant told me to do? He told me to kill them. They… they couldn’t even defend themselves. My God, I pleaded with him to let them live, but he said I’d be brought up on charges of treason. And so… I did it. At that point, I had developed PTSD and they let me retire. For so long after the fact, I could still see the look of terror on their faces and hear their screams.”

“Christ,” was all Piper could get out. _How the hell do you muster up the courage to tell that to somebody?_

“It’s been over two hundred years, and… I’ve gotten over it mostly, but… sometimes it just comes back to me, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Piper replied. “You kill someone, whether it be someone you’re forced to in your case, or even some raider, and you sit and think about the fact that you just _killed someone._ You denied someone the right to living. They don’t exist anymore. They’re gone from the face of the earth. And you can’t reverse it. And you can’t stop thinking about it.”

Jack stared down at the nearly empty noodle bowl. “Thank you. Most of the people I’ve told that story to flip out on me because it was such a horrible act. So, thanks for understanding.”

“Hey, no problem,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “It’s getting kind of late, we should head back.”

“You’re right, I’m getting sort of tired myself. Wanna crash at Home Plate?” Jack asked, standing up from the stool.

“Sure, why not. Nat should be fine at home for the night,” Piper said.

“Alrighty, Home Plate it is.”

* * *

 

_Snick._

The flip lighter flicked on and off at Jack’s command. Exhaustion settled in his bones, but he was too tired to sleep. It was still hours before he had to be at the agency for the case, and it was too cold to go back outside. What else was he to do?

_Snick._

Aside from a small light over the workbench at the other end of the room, the flame from the lighter was all Jack had, and it was all he needed. It was the first time in a while he actually got to sit down and just… think. He was always so damn busy that he never got the time to do anything besides eat a quick meal and work. Jack had worked his ass off from the moment he left the vault up until he left the Institute. And by God, he needed some time off.

 _Snick._ He flicked the lighter off and then back on again. _Snick._ He half expected Nora to walk by him and give him a light lecture on how _“playing with fire is dangerous, dear.”_ But no, it just had to be Piper (whom he expected to be asleep by know) who was the one to lecture him.

“Blue?” Piper called out, turning over on the couch to face him. “I wouldn’t be flicking that lighter like that if I were you.”

Jack looked up from the flame, flicking it off again. _Snick._ “The sound bothering you?”

“No, but you’re playing with damn _fire,_ Blue. That spells danger in my mind,” Piper cautioned. _And the similarities don’t end, do they?_

 _Snick._ He did it again, this time out of spite for both the woman that rested on the couch and the one that lingered in the back of his head.

The reporter let out a sigh. “I mean, if you want to set the entirety of Home Plate aflame with both you and I in here, go for it. You do you, Jack.”

A smile grew on Jack’s face, and he was sure the dame could see it in the light from the flame before she turned back over. “G’night, Piper.”

“Night, Jack. Oh and, don’t burn down the place, alright?” she replied.

A soft laugh escaped past the former soldier’s lips. “No promises.”

 _Snick._ He stared down at the flip lighter in his hand, the one he had gotten from Nora so long ago, and then back up at the reporter on his couch. When the hell did… _this_ happen? When the hell had he fallen for her? And how could he have let it get this far? He hated every single second of it, by God, he did. Yet, a part of him _wanted_ it, welcomed the jittery feeling he was slowly developing in his chest whenever he saw her. But it was only a month since he left the vault. Who the hell in their right mind gets over their dead spouse in a month and develops some kind of damn crush for someone all at the same time?

_Fair point. But you’re not in your right mind._

_Snick,_ his lighter went again. He had come at an impasse with his own inner voice.  _I can’t exactly argue with that, now, can I?_

Flicking the lighter off one last time and closing it, Jack pocketed the item before heading up to his own bed on the second floor. _And now I’m dreaming of you._

 


	8. The Disappearing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earl Sterling is missing, and apparently, it wasn't the Institute's doing. Shocker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did the math and found out that at the rate i'm going with these rewrites, it'll take me about more than half of my summer to get the next 13ish i need to do done.
> 
> i'm going to drive myself insane. oops.
> 
> (on a better note, this chapter was written a bit faster than usual. I don't know if its because it's a quest chapter or what, but dear God, please let the momentum stay with me.)
> 
> Enough of my ramblings. Enjoy this chapter.

_5:36am,_ read Jack’s pip-boy. He gave in; sleep wasn’t going to come to him any time soon.

The vault dweller emerged from his bed, finding a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly jotted a message down on the paper, placing it down on the table next to the couch that his companion slept on. Grabbing his rifle and throwing on his riot coat, Jack hurried out the front door of Home Plate and made his way to the agency.

The city was still fairly quiet, aside from a few of the shopkeepers setting up for the upcoming day and the early birds chirping. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, causing the sky to have a light glow to it. Jack approached the door, lightly knocking. The door opened to reveal Nick, coffee mug in hand.

“You’re here early,” the synth detective greeted.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jack admitted. “Thought we’d get an early start on the case, yeah?”

Nick nodded. “Come on in, the case files are on my desk.”

Jack picked up the file, reading it to himself. _Case: Earl Sterling’s Disappearance. Client: Vadim Bobrov. Another disappearing act to unravel. Earl Sterling, twenty-five year old bartender at the Dugout Inn. One of the owners, Vadim Bobrov, noticed that Earl hadn’t been into work for a few days._

“Ah yes, the Earl Sterling case. Apparently, Earl just up and disappeared one day, and no one has seen him since,” Nick explained. “Been meaning to put Earl’s case to rest for a while now. I’m glad you’re up to do it, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “Hey, I’m glad to be of help to you.”

“Now, let’s see here… he didn’t have any enemies, that’s for sure. Someone would have to notice you’re alive first. He wasn’t exactly charismatic any crimes, either,” Nick mused.

“It couldn’t have been the Institute, right?” Jack asked.

“I guess we’ll just have to see for ourselves. We’ll want to talk to the people at the Dugout Inn. No one knew him better than these folks. Oughta ask around, see what people may or may not know,” Nick told Jack, resting his coffee mug on his desk. “Lead the way.”

The detectives found themselves at the Dugout Inn. Not many people were there- that was to be expected at almost six in the morning. _Hopefully these people have some info,_ Jack thought.

Paul Pembroke stood by the Port-A-Diner, trying desperately to get the preserved pie out of the two-hundred year old contraption. “Hey, Paul?”

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy?” he snapped.

“Jeez, sorry. I was just wondering if you knew anything about Earl Sterling’s disappearance,” Jack asked him, arms crossed.

“Nope. All I know is that he was here one day, gone the next,” he explained. “Now, if you’ll allow me, I’ve been trying to get this damn pie out for hours.”

“Thanks for your time anyways. _Jackass,”_ the former soldier said, mumbling the last part under his breath.

The two detectives asked nearly everyone in the bar for information, to no avail. Nobody had any stable clues as to what happened to the poor man. Finally, Jack approached Vadim, asking if he knew anything. After all, him and Earl were coworkers.

“Hello, Jack! Business has been much better since you took care of our mercenary friends! What brings you to my bar today?” Vadim greeted him, setting his tablecloth to the side.

“Earl Sterling used to work here. Is that right?” Jack asked, leaning against the bar.

“Yes, yes. Poor Earl, gone just like that. Such a good bartender and friend. Oh, but terrible with women, mind you. Bull in a china shop with them. Much better with men, though,” the Russian bartender said. “You with Valentine’s Detective Agency? Forgot to drop off Earl’s key when I hired you people. Here.”

Jack took the key, pocketing it. “Thanks, Vadim.”

“I hope you find out what happened to him. Security does nothing but yell at me for asking about it. Anyway, you look like you need a drink.”

“I’ll pass for now, Vadim,” Jack said. “Don’t want to be drunk while on a detective case, would I?”

“That is fair,” he said, laughing. “Good luck, friend!”

Jack nodded before noticing Yefim in the corner of his eye. “Hey, Yefim! Did you know Earl Sterling?”

Yefim looked up from his sweeping. “Course I did. One of my brother’s old friends. Oh boy, the way those two would go on about girls. Heh, you think Vadim is loud now… Earl was a horrible womanizer. I warned him more than once to leave the staff and customers alone, but Vadim always stood up for him,” the Bobrov brother explained. “Honestly, I’m sort of glad he’s gone. Wouldn’t shut up about the new face he was going to get at the Mega Surgery Center. Vain till the end, I suppose.”

“Thanks for your time, Yefim. I appreciate it,” Jack thanked him before turning around and meeting back up with Nick. “I got the key to his house. Yefim also mentioned something about him getting a new face at the Mega Surgery Center. I dunno how that ties in, but it’s got to somehow.”

“Alright, well lets head to his place, then,” Nick said, and the two found themselves inside Earl Sterling’s home. “I’ll start in here. Why don’t you check out the living room? Must be some hint as to where Earl ran off to.”

The house was rather small like all homes below the upper stands, but a comfortable one at that. Jack turned on the light on his pip-boy, allowing him to see better in the darker room.

“You know, for all the talk, I’d put the chances of this being an Institute snatch job somewhere between zero and none. Just think about it,” Nick started, bending down in front of one of the shelves. “Earl Sterling, local _assistant_ bartender. Why not nab the bartender himself?”

“I see what you mean,” Jack said, searching through the dresser. “Why would the Institute grab the person who doesn’t even own the bar?”

“Exactly,” Nick said, trailing off for a moment. “Lord knows Vadim samples his own wares enough that some weird behavior wouldn’t make anyone bat an eyelash.”

The two continued to search the house that belonged to the late assistant bartender. “And Earl had lousy people skills,” Nick continued. “Might score the Institute some points in the ‘last person you’d expect’ category… but why not snatch someone with charm? Someone who could get you what you want? Earl could barely get you a drink by closing on an early night.”

“It just doesn’t fit together properly. So, where does that leave us, Nick?”

“He had no known enemies. Wasn’t much for the outdoors, so likely not raiders or mutants. This all screams accident. Now, what was Earl into that might have given him all this trouble?” Nick mused, searching through the filing cabinets and everything that could house anything.

Jack bent down next to the couch, picking up some sort of file. “I think this might give us the answer,” he said, handing it to Nick.

“A receipt from the Mega Surgery Center, huh? Wonder what our good doctors have to say about that,” the detective said, handing the receipt back to Jack. “Let’s head out.”

* * *

Piper awoke to a silent home, void of any flickering lighters or breathing coming from her companion. _Don’t tell me he left already._ The couch creaked as the reporter sat up, sinking her feet into her boots. As she went to grab her press cap, she noticed a lit cigarette in the ashtray that laid next to her discarded one from the evening prior, and a piece of paper laying carelessly next to the ashtray. _If he doesn’t set the place on fire with his lighter, then he’ll most certainly set the paper on fire with that damn cigarette._

After extinguishing the lit cigarette, Piper grabbed the paper, reading it. _Morning, Red. Left early, couldn’t sleep. Stuff for coffee is on my desk. Told you I wouldn’t burn the place down! See you soon. Signed, Blue._ She cracked a smile, shaking her head at the last line. _Silly._

The reporter sighed. _Guess I have some time on my hands._ Piper grabbed the notebook she always kept with her out of her trench coat, flipping to one of the empty pages. On it was an uncompleted rough draft about the Brotherhood of Steel, and who they were. In her own messy handwriting, a quote from Nick was written down on the top. _Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing._ Piper bit the end of pen. She needed to get this done, _dammit._ Caps were tight, rent was coming up, and she wouldn’t dare ask Jack or anyone else for the caps she needed. She read over the very few sentences she had before remembering that Jack had left stuff to make coffee. _A coffee a day keeps the writer’s block away,_ she felt herself recalling the phrase she lived by. Putting down her paper and pen, Piper leapt from the couch over to the desk, gathered everything she needed, and made herself a much needed cup of morning coffee. _Thanks, Jack._

Yet, as the reporter returned to the couch, her phrase proved untrue. All the words she wanted to use didn’t seem to fit properly, and her mind seemed to aimlessly wander to a certain vault dweller all too often. Her coffee was now gone, and there were little to no words added to the paper in front of her. A loud, frustrated sigh escaped Piper’s lips as she slumped down further into the couch.

She spoke aloud to herself out of stress. “Yeah, I know what I’ll fucking write. I can see the headliner know. ‘Ace Reporter Can’t Write Article Due to Crush on Vault Dweller.’”

 _Man,_ Piper thought. _I’m goddamn pathetic._ Another sigh escaped her; a defeated one. “Alright, Piper. Let’s do the thing. Let’s write,” she tried encouraging herself, to no avail.

“You know, I hate you, Jack,” Piper mused aloud, clearly frustrated. “You just _had_ to meet me at the gate and somehow got me to fall for you. Nice goddamn job.”

* * *

 

The sun had slowly began to creep out from behind the hills by the time Nick and Jack reached Doctor Sun at the Mega Surgery Center. The doctor that had ruled out the possibility of Piper having a concussion the evening prior stood over his chem station, cleaning his needles.

“Hey, Doc,” Jack greeted, grabbing what he had found at Earl’s home. “Would you know anything about this receipt?”

“Let me see,” the doctor said, taking the receipt. “This is Doc Crocker’s handwriting, alright. Looks like Earl Sterling was one of his patients. The procedure noted here is mundane. Low-risk cosmetic work. Doctor Crocker never performed it, however, said Earl vanished before he could pay.”

“Where is Doc Crocker?” Jack questioned, putting all his weight on one foot.

“Last time I saw him, he had to get something out of the surgery cellar. Probably had to wash some needles or move some storage around,” Sun answered.

“Do you have a key I could use to get into that cellar, doctor?”

“What does this look like, a public outhouse? You know what, don’t answer,” Sun said, shaking his head. “Why on earth would I let you down there anyway?”

“That basement may give us a clue as to what happened to Earl Sterling,” Jack explained to the doctor. “I’m investigating his disappearance.”

“What? You can’t honestly think… you know what, fine. If it’ll put the matter to rest. Here,” Doctor Sun agreed, handing him the key to the cellar. “But if I find one instrument out of place, you’ll be getting the bill.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Jack said, turning to the cellar door. Looking down, he noticed blood staining the floor. _How the hell did Sun not notice this?_ “Where the hell did all this blood come from? It goes right to the basement.”

“Well, let’s check it out, then,” Nick told him.

“Right.” The two entered the basement after unlocking it, finding a cave with chains hanging from the ceiling. The one and only Doc Crocker stood behind a bloody table with a baseball bat leaning against it.

“Oh, Earl. You’ve... you’ve really been a handful, you know?” Crocker spoke aloud to the dismembered corpse of Earl Sterling. “But I think we’re just about done. Our little mistake is finally going to be… corrected.”

“Your time’s up, Crocker,” Nick spoke from behind Jack.

The doctor turned around, wielding a 10mm pistol. “Oh, naughty, naughty! You two aren’t supposed to be down here! But that’s okay, I can fix that. I can fix anything,” Crocker babbled in a craze.

“Doc, take it easy. Let’s talk about Earl,” Jack said, attempting to talk him down. He took his hand off his pistol, allowing for a more trusting environment.

“I-I didn’t mean to do it! You have to believe me. Doc Crocker is a brilliant surgeon. No one dies under his care, no one dies!” he said, his voice shaking. “They just walk away happy. Happy with my work. Happy with their new face. Not screaming. Not bleeding out on the floor. Earl… he… he just didn’t want to be happy. That must have been it.”

“You really think you can get away with this?

“Get away with this?” Doc Crocker repeated his question, laughing. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Doc Crocker! Doc Crocker never does anything wrong. And once this is all over, no one will have any reason to question that.”

“You made a mistake, but you can still do the right thing, doctor. Just think this through.”

“Drop the weapon, doc. Haven’t enough people suffered today?” Nick added, eyeing Earl’s corpse.

“You’re… you’re right,” Crocker agreed. “There’s one thing I can do. Only one thing is going to make this all better. I… I can fix anything.”

In the matter of a second, Crocker had picked up the bat that laid against the table, and hit Jack over the head with it, and everything went black.

* * *

  _I wouldn’t be upset with you if you moved on._

Jack’s eyes slowly opened, welcoming him back to the world. His head hurt like hell and his vision blurred. He could just barely make out three figures standing a few feet away from where he was laying.

“…and make sure he gets enough water and rest. The only way he will properly recover from the concussion is rest,” he heard someone say, presumably a doctor.

“Crocker hit him pretty good,” a synthetic voice said.

“I’m… just glad he’s alright,” a feminine voice added.

Finally, his vision began to clear up. Piper, Nick, and Doctor Sun all stood before him.

“Oh, look. He’s waking up now,” Nick alerted the other two. “How are you feeling, kid?”

“I feel like someone dropped a brahmin on my head,” the vault dweller said, rubbing his head as he slowly sat up. “What happened after I blacked out? I remember Crocker saying there was only one way left to fix all of this, and then the rest is blurry.”

“The doc hit you pretty hard with a baseball bat,” Nick explained. “Then he overdosed on psycho. Sun and I dragged you out of the basement, and I got Piper over here while Sun got you patched up.”

“Thanks for dragging my sorry ass outta there,” Jack thanked them.

“Not a problem.”

“You should be cleared to go, Jack. If anything else seems out of place, come see me,” Doc Sun explained. “I should get the word to the Dugout Inn, let them know what happened.”

“Thanks again, Doc,” Jack called out, stepping through the door. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Piper wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders in a bear hug. “Ooph. Thanks for the hug, Red, but you’re sorta killing me, here.”

Piper let go of him, wiping down her trench coat. “Sorry. I was just… worried. Glad you’re okay.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Piper,” Jack reassured her. “So, uh… noodles?”


	9. It's Bad for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot Jack could be doing right now. Like, helping out a settlement. Or drawing. Or even advancing the fight against the Institute. But no, he's stuck in Home Plate with a concussion going over all the similarities between Piper and Nora, while being a little too selfless.
> 
> Maybe Doc Crocker hit him a little too hard with that bat.

Jack needed to do something.

He had always hated the feeling of being restricted, whether it be by a person, or in his case, an injury. His head hurt like hell, but by God did he want to get up do something, _anything_ he could. Especially now. He needed some kind of distraction from his thoughts. Perhaps Doc Crocker hit him a little harder than he thought with that damn baseball bat, because he couldn’t keep his mind off Piper. The companion in question leaned against the counter, facing away from Jack with one hand resting on the counter’s surface, the other hand nursing a cup of coffee.

 _Wonder if her thoughts are as scattered and crazy as mine right now._ “You alright, Piper?”

A chuckle came from the reporter. “I should be asking _you_ that question.”

“Piper, I’m _fine._ Now, are _you_ alright? Something seems to be worrying you,” Jack said, slowly sitting up. His vision blurred as vertigo took over, causing him to grip the couch cushions until his knuckles were white.

The reporter rested her cup on the counter before turning to face her companion. “Blue! You- you need to take it easy.”

Jack shook his head. “I told you, I’m alright, Red. Don’t worry about me,” Jack attempted to reassure her. As he stood up to get himself a cup of coffee, his damned vertigo got the best of him. His balance began to fail him as he grabbed onto the arm of the chair, stopping him from falling. Waiting for the vertigo to subside, he closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, Piper was by his side, her words echoing in his ear.

“Jesus Christ, Jack. You almost just fell over,” Piper said. “What are you even trying to do, anyway?”

“I wanted to _prove_ that I’m alright so that you’d tell me if _you’re_ alright,” Jack explained, looking up into her smaragdine green eyes. “I also wanted coffee.”

Piper sighed. “One, you should be drinking water, not coffee. Caffeine isn’t gonna help ya, Blue. Two, if you’re trying to prove that, you’re doing a terrible job at it. And third, I’m _fine._ Just damn worried about you, and you’re not making this any damn easier.”

“Listen, Red, I need to do _something_ and one of those things is getting something to drink,” Jack replied, attempting to stand up again, to no avail. He nearly fell on Piper before catching himself, leaving his face just a few inches away from Piper’s face. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Jack could see Nora’s emerald eyes instead of Piper’s eyes. They stood there for what seemed like years, yet was only a few seconds. _Holy shit, oh my god, what the fuck-_

They both snapped out of their ensnared trances, and the reporter nearly pushed him back into a sitting position on the couch. “Goddammit, you’re so _fucking_ stubborn. Sit down, and I’ll get you water.”

 _That was way too close._ Jack finally sat down, letting his head lean against the back of the couch and allowing his eyes to close. “I told you, you don’t need to worry about me.”

His companion returned, purified water in hand. “Blue, you’re my closest friend, and you have a concussion,” she said, handing him the water. “Of course I’m going to be worried.”

The vault dweller crossed his ankles and rested an arm behind his head. “Piper, the only thing you need to worry about is yourself, okay?” Jack told her, taking a sip of his water.

“That’s the thing, Jack,” she said, sitting down next to him. “In the short time that we’ve known each other, I’ve learned that you’re a selfless person. You… you put other’s well-being before your own personal gain. And while being willing to help people is a good trait to have, I’m beginning to fear that it’ll be your downfall.”

“So, what?” he said in response. “There are people in the Commonwealth that need help, that _deserve_ help. I’ve… I’ve reached the point of no return. I’m _not_ a good person. Most of those people that need help haven’t reached that point.”

A gloved hand reached up to his dark brown hair, her fingers gently running through it. “Dammit, Blue. You know that’s not true. To so many people, you’re a damn hero.”

“I’m no hero, Piper. I’m a _killer-“_

“Well, you’re a _fucking hero_ in my book!” she snapped, pulling her hand away from his head.

The room went entirely silent until Piper spoke up again. “Blue, you and I, people like us… we burn ourselves out for others. And… you’re right. A lot of people deserve our help. But we need to take a break for ourselves sometimes. I don’t think I could stand seeing my friend break themselves down like that, not allowing themselves a break.”

“Fine, I’ll try to take it easier,” Jack said, folding his arms. “You have a point.”

“Thank God,” Piper said, sighing in relief. Her hand returned to its spot on Jack’s head, nimble fingers kneading his hair. “That makin’ your headache feel any better?”

A groan came from the vault dweller. “Yeah, it’s definitely helping. Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes and allowing his companion to continue to run her fingers through his hair. “You’re a damn good friend.”

_Yeah, go ahead, friendzone yourself and Piper. Always works._

“Well, I try my best,” Piper said with a smile. “You up for some music?”

“Go crazy. Just turn the volume down a bit, my head is still hurting like a bastard,” the former soldier replied, sitting up in his seat. “Could ya put on Old World Tunes? DCR is gettin’ a bit boring for me.”

Piper nodded, turning on the station of her friend’s request, and making sure the volume was low. The host’s voice spoke over the speaker. “ _Hey, Vault Dweller, if you’re out there, stop by the station sometime. I’d love to get an interview for this series I’m working on.”_

The dame chuckled. “He wants _your_ interview, Blue? Doesn’t he know you’re a busy man?”

Jack shook his head. “Oh, shush.”

“I mean,” Piper started, “you said it yourself; you’re a damn busy person.”

The host of the radio station continued, despite the two. _“Anyways, let’s get to the song I’ve been thinking about. Here’s ‘It’s Bad for Me’ by Rosemary Clooney, and Benny Goodman. A classic.”_

“Yes! I _love_ this song,” Jack exclaimed as the intro to the song began. “Those two are so good in this song.” _Yeah, and it fits you and Piper, too._

Benny Goodman started out the first verse, while Piper silently sung the song to herself. _Oh, it’s bad for me, yes, it’s bad for me, this knowledge that you’re going mad for me. I feel certain my friends would be glad for me, but it’s bad for me._

 _Damn, right it’s bad for me,_ Jack thought. _There are so many reasons that you and here can’t be a thing!_

The second verse came with Rosemary Clooney’s voice. _It’s so good for you, so new for you to see someone in such a stew for you. And when I say I’ll do all I could do for you, it’s so good for you._

Her voice switched back out for Goodman’s voice. _It’s bad for me. I felt till you whispered to me, completely left on the shelf. But since you’ve started to woo me, I’m just crazy ‘bout myself._

 _Let’s see,_ the former soldier began to think. _You’re two-hundred and fourteen years older than her…_

 _It’s a boon for you, a break for you, to hear that my heart’s on the make for you. Yet no matter however appealing I still have a feeling it’s bad for me,_ Clooney sang once more, her ancient voice ringing in Jack’s ears.

_And Piper’s too much like Nora, don’t forget that._

As the instrumental part of the song kicked in, Jack said, “You two are alike.”

A very confused Piper looked up at her companion. “What?”

“You and Nora. You two are pretty similar.”

“Uh, Blue, are you sure you’re… are you alright?” Piper asked, sitting up a bit straighter and locking eyes with Jack.

“What? I’m… I’m fine, just hear me out,” he started. “I swear, you two could be passed off as relatives. I mean, you both have green eyes, similar hairstyles, freckles… I mean- hold on.”

Jack quickly dipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a photo. The picture was of Nora holding Shaun, wearing a wide smile. Looking at the photo for the first time in a while was bittersweet. He had spent so much time avoiding looking at the damn thing in fear of breaking down over her death once more, but he always had it on him. The photo had always seemed like such a weight on his chest, suffocating him.

And by God, it sure felt damn good to look at it again, no matter how bittersweet.

He handed the old photo to Piper, who stared at it for a good moment. “Don’t you see the similarities, Red?”

The song’s lyrics returned with Benny Goodman repeating his verse again as the dame gave him an answer. _I felt till you whispered to me, completely left on the shelf. But since you started to woo me, I’m just crazy ‘bout myself._

“I… I guess you’re… guess you’re right about that,” Piper replied, still looking at the picture.

“The similarities don’t end there,” Jack began to explain as the song continued with Clooney’s voice.

_It’s a boon for you, a break for you, to hear that my heart’s on the make for you…_

“Both truth seekers, looking out for others…”

The song finally ended with both artists singing the last two lines. _Yet no matter however appealing, I still have a feeling it’s bad… for me!_

Jack gave a half-hearted, nostalgia-filled laugh. “She would always be making sure I was okay. Never made time for herself, though. Never took breaks. I always… felt so bad, you know? I eventually got her to tone it down on the whole over-working herself thing. You know, as much as you two are alike, I don’t think you two would get along very well.”

“Why do you say that?” Piper asked, looking down at the photo and then back up at her companion.

“Well, for one, she didn’t exactly like the press,” Jack began, chuckling. “Back then, most of the shit the press put out there was just blatant lies, corruptness, and covering up the truth.” _Not much different than what the world was like anyways back then._

“And… well, I feel like if she was in my shoes right now, she wouldn’t care about anything except for avenging me and getting Shaun back,” he continued. “I was like that for a while, but now… if I can’t have a fresh start at life with my son, than the world should get what I didn’t get back.”

“I mean, it’s for the good of getting Shaun back, right?” Piper said.

“I guess so,” Jack replied. “She barely had a sarcastic bone in her body, too. I mean, she could be sarcastic, but her attempts were almost always failures. Heh, I can hear her failed quips in my head now.”

 _You know, perhaps they aren’t as alike as I once thought._ He had spent all this time focusing on their similar looks and the few aspects of their personalities that were similar, but never once thought about their _many_ differences that he somehow had just looked over.

He chuckled, memories of his past wife flooding into his mind. “Nora was… she was shorter than most, a good six or seven inches shorter than me. She had dark brown hair similar to mine, an old scar on her chin from her family dog, and a scar on her nose from a time she fell. She had the dorkiest smile… never could make a real smile unless you made her laugh. God, I miss her. I miss her _a lot._ ”

Piper looked on with sympathetic eyes. “I don’t know how you do it, Blue. You’ve lost everything, and yet here you are, still pushing.”

 _Just barely._ “I don’t really know either. I… I guess I just- just keep going so I can see the crumbling of the Institute.”

“What do you think you’ll do after they’re gone?” asked the reporter.

 _What are you supposed to do when you have nothing left keeping you in this world?_ The pre-war relic didn’t know exactly what he would do. He had no more connections from his past life in this world anymore. Just a shell of his neighborhood and the city he once called home. Perhaps he’d wander the world after the Institute was gone; see what was left of the world. _You have nothing left here. Nothing to live here for except for the end of the Institute. You have nothing now, and you’ll surely have nothing then._

 _Perhaps I’ll go home,_ he thought, but didn’t say it out loud. “I dunno. Probably rebuild Sanctuary or something, settle down.” _There’s no real purpose in it, though. Maybe I’ll find something I can live for between now and whenever the Institute is gone._

“Well, no matter what happens, you’ve always got me and everyone else, right at your side,” Piper said, gently rubbing her companion’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” said the former soldier. “I should… probably get some rest.”

“You do that,” she replied with a smile. “Sleep well, Blue.”

Jack slowly emerged from the couch and headed for his bed, giving the reporter a smile. _Maybe I’ve already found what I can live for._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our good friend @vkm11 over on tumblr dared me to used [smaragdine](http://mintycoolnessisrelevant.tumblr.com/post/158527751347/ive-got-a-new-word-for-fanfic-writers-to-use) in my next chapter.
> 
> Couldn't pass it up.
> 
> (i hope you're happy ari)


	10. Uritur Infelix Est Natalis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our vault dweller's birthday has finally arrived a week and a half after the investigation of Earl Sterling's disappearance. Jack's concussion is gone (for the most part) just in time for his celebration (or, whatever you'd consider a "celebration" in the Commonwealth these days.)
> 
> And, to say the least, it doesn't... go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate title for this chapter was ["Screen,"](https://youtu.be/2-Ph0rBzFL4) inspired by the song of the same name by my favorite band, twenty one pilots.

**[=A WEEK AND A HALF AFTER THE DISAPPEARING ACT=]**

 

Piper rubbed her arms through her red trench coat as she joined her pre-war companion atop the roof of Home Plate. A thick layer of snow covered the roof outside of the old trailer that the two were in. Jack stood before the door of the trailer, a lit cigarette in hand as he watched the snow fall on the city. While the reporter loved how beautiful the snow could be against the dark and grim atmosphere of the Commonwealth, she’d take the heat over the cold any day of the week. It was no nuclear winter, but it was a bit too cold for Piper’s liking.

The ace reporter shivered underneath her leather coat. “How are you _not_ freezing, B-Blue?” Piper asked, her teeth chattering as another shiver went down her spine.

Jack blew a puff of smoke into the cold air. “I am cold, I’m just… sort of used to it. Being frozen for two-hundred and ten years straight will do that to you,” he explained. “Plus, this big coat I’m wearing is pretty warm.”

“Yeah, lucky you. I’ve got a damn leather jacket and I’m _still_ cold,” she complained, rubbing her hands together in hopes of making more heat.

“You want my coat, Piper?” he asked, his navy-blue coat already half off.

“No, I wouldn’t want you to freeze over for a _second time_ , and…” Piper said, trailing off as she found his coat flowing over her frame.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’ll get my riot coat,” Jack said, disappearing back into Home Plate and returning with his riot coat, as he had said.

Piper put her arms through the sleeves of the coat and zipped it up. _It’s shit like this that made you fall for him in the first place._ A simple, yet generous act was enough to turn that switch on in her brain, and no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get that stupid feeling to go away. No matter how many times she listed off the reasons why it was implausible in her head, or however many times she pinpointed the things she disliked about him, it _never went away,_ and it bothered her to no end, like a thorn in her side. _Maybe it’s meant to be…_

The reporter shook her head. She _must_ be going crazy to think that! _Well, it sure feels like I am._

“By the way, Blue, how are you feeling?” she asked. “I know it’s been a little over a week since you got that concussion, but…”

“I’m feeling alright,” he told her. “Still feeling a little spacey, but other than that I feel great.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“I can’t wait to get the fuck outta Diamond City,” he said, bringing the cigarette to his mouth before blowing out another cloud of smoke. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the city, but we’ve been here for far too long.”

“I know what you mean. The big city can be a bit too much sometimes,” she agreed.

“Though, it’s actually really nice,” Jack continued, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with his boot. “The snow against Diamond City is super easy on the eyes.”

 _Not as much as you are._ “Couldn’t agree more. Don’t care for the chilling cold though,” Piper said.

“Man, I remember as a kid, we’d sit in front of the fireplace and watch the snow fall outside. New York was always the best place for snow,” Jack explained, a smile forming.

“Whoa, you lived in New York? Isn’t it beyond repair nowadays?” Piper asked out of curiosity.

“Lived there for a good ten or eleven years. Moved back here to Massachusetts when I was seventeen,” he said. “I’d love to go back some day… well, you know, if it wasn’t wiped off the face of the Earth.”

“Future field trip?” Piper considered. She’d love to go and see another state; while learning more about her companion’s past at the same time.

Jack shrugged. “I dunno. It’s a possibility. Maybe… after everything finally settles down? Although, I don’t know if things will ever settle down…” he said, trailing off. “Anyways, we… should probably head back to Sanctuary. I’d like to spend my birthday at home-“

“Your birthday is today?” the dame exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?! We have to celebrate!” Grabbing his hand, she led him down through Home Plate.

“Piper, I don’t want—“

“Nonsense, Blue,” she said, stopping before the door. “You’re, what—“

“Two-hundred forty-one,” he interjected with an almost annoyed voice.

“Two-hundred forty-one years old! Gotta make the most of it. Now, come on, let’s go to the Dugout and celebrate!” she continued, dragging him through the city.

“Piper!” he nearly shouted, startling her enough to make her drop his hand. “Listen… I appreciate that you want to celebrate my birthday, but one, I’m in no mood to get drunk and two, I… don’t exactly _enjoy_ celebrating my damn birthday.”

The reporter’s shoulders sunk in disappointment. _You’re no fun. But I’ll make sure you have fun, anyways._ “Dammit, Blue, I wasn’t gonna get you hammered, jeez,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, what do _you_ want to do?”

“I’d _like_ to go home and enjoy a comic book, some Nuka-Cola and a sweet roll,” Jack explained.

“Yeah, sure, alright. But I know something _better._ ”

“And what would that be?” he questioned, crossing his arms.

“Trust me on this, Jack. C’mon!” Piper exclaimed.

“Fine. But if this is any worse than a sweet roll…”

“It’s not, I promise,” she said as the two found themselves at the Dugout Inn. Passing through the door, the reporter went straight to the Port-A-Diner.

“You think you’re going to be able to get that stupid preserved pie?” Jack asked. “Paul Pembroke was here trying to get it when I was investigating Earl Sterling’s disappearance. And he had been at it for _hours,_ Piper.”

“Don’t be such a Negative Nancy, Blue. I’m going to get that damn pie.”

“Psh, sure,” Jack scoffed. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Oh, you will,” Piper replied. “Give me about a day, and I’ll have this pie out and an article about it, too!”

The former soldier sat down at the bar, looking over at his companion every now and then. “A hundred caps says she gets that pie out,” Vadim spoke up.

“It’s a bet,” Jack said, shaking hands with the bartender. “Might as well pay up now.”

Piper turned around to face the two while the claw in the Port-A-Diner reached down to grab the pie, to no avail. “Yeah, Jack, you might as well pay up. Because I _will_ get the pie.”

She turned around, pressing the button on the side once more and watching the claw reach down once more. “Just you watch,” she said, briefly turning around. As she returned her attention to the machine, she had to do a double take. She _actually_ got the pie!

“Good luck with—“

“I got it!” she shouted, grabbing the pie. “Nat was right; I am the lucky one.”

Vadim laughed behind Jack, while his jaw hit the floor. “Time to pay up, Jack!”

He scrambled to count out a hundred caps before approaching Piper. “H-Holy… holy shit.”

“Come on, take a bite!” she urged. “It’s your birthday.”

Grabbing two forks, he handed one to her. “You got the pie out of that machine, and I doubted you. You deserve _at least_ half of it.”

Piper didn’t hesitate to take one of his forks. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said, plunging the fork into the pie and taking a bite, while Jack joined her.

“Man, I haven’t had pie in two hundred and ten years. I miss pre-war foods,” he said.

“I-I’m speechless,” the reporter added. “This has got to be the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Soon enough, the pie was gone. _It’s a shame you can’t disprove ‘have your cake and eat it too.’ Or… well, pie._

“I’m absolutely determined to get every damn preserved pie I see from now on,” Jack told her, licking his fork. “If you can be that lucky, I sure as hell can be, too.”

The reporter laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “I wouldn’t be so cocky, lover boy. I’ve got the magic touch.”

“Yeah, mhm,” Jack started. “Sounds fake, but alright.”

Piper playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Asshole.”

“Hey, _rude._ It’s my birthday, after all.”

“Oh, yeah? I thought you didn’t like celebrating your birthday?” the reporter asked, a sly grin spread across her face as she folded her arms.

“I _don’t_. Doesn’t mean you can’t be nice,” Jack told her.

“Who said I was nice?”

“Fair point.”

 _“Anyways,”_ Piper began, “what else do you want to do? It’s your birthday, you’ve got the right.”

Jack sighed. “I… I think I know a place.”

“Show me.”

* * *

Snow rested on the ground of the abandoned town, Concord. Birds flew about the town, landing on telephone wires and tracking their footsteps in the snow. The dead raider bodies were still scattered about, snow covering them as they decayed away from the day Jack left the vault. Piper had absolutely no clue why he brought her to Concord; he wouldn’t tell her why. _You’ll see when we get there,_ he had said. Jack, of all people, should know that she doesn’t like things being kept from her. She continued to ask until the two stopped in front of the Concord Church. The snow on the ground made the church almost blend into its surroundings with its white, yet chipped and worn paint. Piper followed Jack inside, taking in the rugged exterior.

The vault dweller wiped dust off one of the pews. “Nora and I got married here, a day before my birthday. Two-hundred and thirteen years ago,” he explained. “It’s nearly blown to hell, but… it feels no different to me than the day her and I got married.”

Skeletons littered the old church; lying over the pews, hunched over in corners, and on the floor. Before Piper ever met Jack, she never paid any mind to the remains that were scattered across the wasteland, and never took the time to wonder or even piece together what their stories were (oddly enough, considering it was her job to do that). Yet, now that she has met someone who may have known some of the people that were now skeletons, she was so much more aware of the fact that these bones belonged to _real people._ People with families and jobs. People who lived happily in the Commonwealth. People who never thought Doomsday would come.

It was almost funny, to think that Jack was one of those people; to think that he could have become one of the skeletons that was slumped in a corner.

The reporter sighed. She was still wearing his goddamn jacket. _You like him._ The words didn’t quite settle right with her, but she was done fighting it.

She shook her head, emptying it of her thoughts. This was Jack’s day, not hers.

“Piper? You in there?” Jack said, waving a hand in front of her face.

“What?” she replied, blinking. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. Just kinda… spaced out.”

Jack nodded before turning away towards the podium. Pushing over the skeleton that was leaning against it, he picked up the half-burned book and flipped through its pages. “Every Sunday Nora and I would come down here. I was never the religious one, but she was. I didn’t care much about going to church every Sunday, but she did. So, I went with her to make her happy. I… actually learned some things too,” he said, stopping on one page in the book. “There it is. Romans 12:21. ‘Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.’ Her favorite scripture.”

He closed the nearly ruined book and stuffed it in his book, leaving the podium. “Probably was her favorite because the scripture’s numbers are my birthdate. Twelve twenty-one.”

“Maybe you should take that quote to heart, Blue,” Piper told him.

“What?” he asked, stopping before her.

“You said you thought you weren’t a good person, right? Just… just think about that quote. I doubt there’s any ‘evil’ bone in your body, since you’ve done so much good.”

He shook his head. “Don’t start.”

“What? You know I’m right.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, maybe so, but I’m a stubborn, self-destructive asshole. I’ll be eons before I believe that,” he said, sitting down at the large piano that was leaning against the right wall.

“Is… that a piano?” Piper asked.

“Still in decent condition,” he said, playing a few notes.

“And I assume you’re good at playing the piano? You’re great at playing that ukulele and you’re a good singer,” she said, leaning up against the wall next to the instrument. “What else are you good at, then?”

“You’d be right. I can draw, too,” he answered. “I wouldn’t say I’m amazing at it, but I’m alright at drawing.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you could do nearly anything.”

He scoffed, slamming his hand down onto the piano keys to create a garble of notes. “I can name a few for you right now that I cannot do.”

“Go for it,” Piper urged him.

“I can’t paint to save my life. I’m horrible at calming myself down, and I’m not the best socializer either,” he said, listing things off. “I can’t write as well as you do.”

“Oh, I bet you’re great at it, Blue.”

“Piper,” he said, looking her directly in the eyes. With a chuckle, he continued, “trust me. I was _not_ built to write.”

“Alright, fine. I’m not going to fight you on it.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Let’s see… I’m not great at explaining things. Not good at expressing the shit that I’m going through—“

“Wait, what?”

This time, Jack slammed his entire fist down onto the piano keys. “Don’t worry about it, alright?” he said as he began playing some sort of song.

 _I’m surprised he didn’t break the damn thing._ “What was that last part about, Blue? You okay?”

“Yeah- yeah, I’m fine,” he said, continuing to play the piano.

 _Something isn’t right._ “Yeah, okay. Sure,” she said, not buying it. Piper was a reporter, for God sakes. She knew when someone was lying. “Blue, if you need to get something off your chest—“

Almost right on cue, Piper was interrupted by loud groans and banging coming from the church’s door.

Feral ghouls.

 “Shit,” Jack said as he got up from his seat in front of the piano, grabbing his rifle. “This is just great.”

Piper equipped her 10mm pistol. “So much for a happy birthday, right, Blue?”

 


	11. Fake You Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped inside the Concord Church due to feral ghouls, Piper and Jack await for the Minutemen to come to their rescue.
> 
> Jack just wishes they would have come sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see all those tags up there about mental health and what not? Yeah, this is the chapter where that begins to come into play. If any of this stuff bothers you, please, feel free to stop reading. You being comfortable is much more important than some internet fanfiction. Proceed with caution.

Perhaps going to the old church was not one of Jack’s best ideas. It was _oh so_ ironic that his birthday happened to fall on a Sunday this year, too.

The feral ghouls were absolutely relentless, showing no sign of retreating any time soon. Piper kicked a ghoul away from the door, firing her 10mm into the crowd, successfully killing a few.

“I left my Fat Man back at home,” Jack groaned, firing an entire round of his rifle at the ghouls.

“Yeah, that would have come in _real_ handy, Jack!” Piper exclaimed.

“Well, _somebody_ insisted I celebrated my birthday!” he argued back.

“You were the one who said we should come to this goddamn church!” she continued on.

Their mini-argument distracted them from the task at hand, allowing for a few ghouls to enter the church before the two finally snapped out of it, Piper standing in front of the door to stop the other ghouls from entering.

 _God-fucking-dammit,_ Jack thought. “Piper, move that bookshelf in the corner in front of the door! I’ll stand in front of the door while you move it and take out these ghouls.”

Nodding, the reporter dashed to the empty bookshelf, pushing it over while Jack took on the ferals. As soon as the bookshelf was in front of the door, the vault dweller continued his fight with the few ghouls that had broken in.

Jack ducked as the feral swung its arm at him, kicking its legs out from underneath it. He threw his knife at the other ghoul before shooting the one on the ground before him.

“I’ve still got it… for a two-hundred forty-one-year-old man,” he bragged, pulling the knife from the ghoul's head and spinning it in his hand.

Piper eyed a feral on the floor behind him. “Blue, watch out!” she exclaimed as the ghoul picked itself up off the ground, lunging at Jack.

A pained growl came from the former soldier as the ghoul’s claws shredded through the chest of his coat. Grabbing his pistol that was holstered on his leg, he fired into the feral’s head, killing it before it could do any more damage.

His companion rushed to his side. “Goddamn, Jack. You alright?”

“I’ll be f-fine, Piper,” he attempted to reassure her. “The cuts aren’t that deep. Just hurts like absolute hell…”

Piper guided him as he sat down against the side of the piano. “I told you, you should have put the damn armor on with the coat, instead of just the coat.”

“I didn’t know we were going to be attacked by ferals,” he argued. Piper lightly slapped him on the chest, enough to make him grunt in pain. In a pained voice, he said, “M-Maybe I should have put the armor on, t-too.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, thrusting the needle of a stimpack into his chest. “Now, how the hell are we getting out of here?”

Jack thought for a moment, leaning his head against the piano. _We can’t jump out of the holes in the roof, too high… the holes in the walls are too small… Wait._ “I’ve got my flare gun in my bag. I can shoot a flare up through a hole in the wall or something, and the Minutemen should find their way here,” he explained. “Can you grab my bag?”

She nodded, quickly grabbing his bag that was discarded on one of the pews, and handed it to him. He searched through his bag, finally finding the flare gun. Aiming it out of the hole in the wall near him, he fired the flare straight into the sky. _And now, we wait._ “That should do it,” he said, dropping the gun on the ground next to him. 

Piper sat down against the wall a few feet away from him, sighing and crossing her arms. “So much for a happy birthday.”

 _That’s an understatement._ Jack grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his bag, along with Nora’s lighter. Lighting a cigarette, he placed the cancer stick between his lips before flicking the lighter on and off. _Snick._ This time, he messed with the lighter out of spite of Piper.

“Don’t burn yourself,” she warned. _There it is._

“I don’t need to hear it right now, Red,” Jack said in reply, but stopped flicking the lighter anyway. Dropping the old flip lighter next to him, he pulled his knees up to his chest despite the pain it caused.

His head was beginning to feel foggy. Perhaps it was from smoking, but he didn’t give much a care at the moment. Besides, he knew that wasn’t the case at all. Jack put out the current cigarette he had, having quickly gone through it. He reached for his pack that lay discarded next to him to find they were empty.

 _Great. Third box I’ve gone through since Friday._ A frustrated growl escaped past his lips as he found his last pack in his bag, immediately pulling out another cigarette. “I’ve gone through like, three packs of these in the matter of three days,” he said sourly, lighting it up. “I used to smoke cigars back in the day. You know, when I was actually _more_ mentally stable.”

Jack laughed it off while Piper stared at him as if he had four heads. He knew full well that letting things like that slip would cost him, but at this point, he didn’t give a flying fuck. He had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders, so what did it matter? It wasn’t like anyone would give a shit. As the “savior of the Commonwealth,” he was expected to be the strong and silent type (which he never was). He was forced to just bottle it all up like a bottle of whiskey. There was no venting. There was no down time. Just work. It wasn’t his _damn_ job to get emotional. And so, here he was, boiling over and coming apart at the seams.

He just laughed it off. It’s nothing new.

“What do you mean by that?” Piper questioned with genuine concern. “You’ve been acting a little strange in the past hour, Blue.”

 _I’m dying and I’m trying, but believe me, I’m fine._ “Don’t worry about it,” he answered, blowing a puff of smoke in her direction. _But I’m lying, I’m_ so _very far from fine._

His bones ached and his head felt even more spacey by the minute. _Quit being cowardly and get it out, killer._ Jack could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t believe the words that escaped his lips. It didn’t surprise him, but he wanted her to believe it.

 _For as much as you hate lies, you sure do lie a lot. You make me sick,_ his intrusive inner voice spoke _._

“Jack, that’s a lie and you know it.” She grabbed his box to pull out a cigarette of her own, lighting it. “I’m a reporter, it’s my _job_ to figure out the truth. You know I’m nosy enough that I’ll end up figuring it out sooner or later. If you need to get it out, I’m right here.”

 _Damn you._ Tension built up in chest, rising up into his throat in the form of poorly thought out words. He needed to just _let it out,_ no matter how jumbled or disjointed it may be.

“Piper, I’m going to say it upfront. The stress is fucking killing me,” Jack began, but not sure how to continue. He stood up and began to pace the floor, grabbing at his neck. “Since I left that damn vault, I’ve had _problem_ stacked on top of _problem_ to deal with. It’s gotten to my damn head, and I have no fucking clue what to do!”

Jack expected her to tell him to calm down. But she didn’t. She let him rant on.

“It’s not like it’s anything new.” His hands curled into fists as he spoke. “My head has been fucked since before the bombs dropped. It’s just… different now, I guess. My t-thoughts are irrational, it’s too much.”

He wasn’t even sure if what he was saying made sense. But his thoughts didn’t make any sense either.

“When the hell did this start, Jack?” his companion asked as she stood up, facing him.

“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know,” he said in response. “My head has been nothing but absolute chaos for some time now. I’ve been plagued by my fucking intrusive thoughts more so than ever, and I… I just _don’t_ want to deal with it anymore!”

_Leaving this world isn’t as scary as it sounds, I hope you know._

He let out a shaky breath. The exhaustion that he had been carrying for so long finally swept over him. “I never wanted any of this, Piper. Look, I just want to go home, okay? I’m sick of _everything._ I’m sick of my mind telling me that I’m not a good person. I’m sick of failing every. Single. Goddamn time.”

“Blue, if you’re not feeling well… not feeling entirely okay, maybe you should rest?” she told him, standing up to join him. “Some things work out best when you don’t try so hard. No matter who you are, bearing too much weight… inevitably leads to the collapse of everything.”

Jack turned around to face her, eyes locking with his companion. “Don’t you get it? I can’t rest! I have people _counting_ on me! I can’t stop and take a break.”

“Blue—“

“You know what’s even worse? It’s _me_ they’re counting on,” he began to rant again, all that pent-up anger finally coming out in the form of hostile and self-destructive words. _Knowing oneself means acknowledging one’s actions._ “I have so much blood on my damn hands! They look up to a killer!”

“Jack, we’ve already gone through this!”

He shook his head, approaching a mirror that was hanging on the wall. “It doesn’t matter what the hell you say. Nothing is going to change the fact that I’m a goddamn murderer,” Jack replied, turning slightly so he could see Piper. “I’ve tried, dammit, I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m _not_ such a bad person. But every time, every _fucking_ time, I come up with another reason that I’m not as great as everyone thinks I am.”

“Come on, that’s not true.”

Jack turned towards the mirror again, grimacing at himself. Endless nights filled with whiskey and a sharp blade could be seen in the form of bags under his hazy blue eyes. He was _so_ goddamn tired. Not just physically, but mentally, too. Since he left the vault, he had to put up with failure after failure. Jack had put so much damn effort into finding his son, and for what? Shaun was the leader of the Institute now. All of his work, for absolutely nothing. Just… failure. All he was now was a pathetic excuse for a general. Just some blood-thirsty merc with a bad attitude, it seemed.

No, it was true. He wasn’t worth being held up on a pedestal like he was by the wastelanders. Hell, he never was.

He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror anymore. With a swift fist, he easily broke the mirror. “I _hate_ who I am, Piper!” he exclaimed as the shattered glass of what was once a mirror fell to the ground. Tears threatened to spill over as he said, “You deserve a friend who has their fucking head on straight.”

He heard his companion’s swift footsteps behind him. Piper grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, grabbing the folds of his coat and bringing him so close to her face he thought their noses would touch. Her emerald eyes pierced his own, sending chills down his spine.

Jack could hear the frustration and venom in her voice as she said, “I swear to God, Jackson, you need to have fucking faith in yourself. Nobody gives a shit what you’ve done, or who you’ve killed, or… whatever! You’re… you’re you, Jack!” she exclaimed. Her eyes had begun to water up, and she wiped a stray tear from her face as she continued. “Your past doesn’t define you, Jack. What matters is that _you_ are taking a big fucking step towards something _nobody_ else would ever even _dream_ about doing. You are doing what most people wouldn’t even think of doing! You are changing this world for the better. And… and I want you to _know_ that.”

She let go of her companion, rubbing her eye, while Jack just stood there, staring at her. His words seemed to fail him.

_Looks like I’ve got something to think about._

_Yeah, yeah, save it. She got super close to you, blah blah blah. Once you get attached to someone, you know you’re fucked._ Jack just wiped the remainder of the tears from his eyes.

All of a sudden, the sound of shouting followed by gunfire came from outside of the church. Jack could hear the ghouls that were outside of the door groaning in pain, and their tortured screams as they died.

“Sounds like our ride is here,” Piper pointed out, her voice still slightly shaky and wobbly.

Jack shook his head, grabbing his bag and weapons as Piper did the same. Preston barged through the door, a relieved smile on his face.

“Oh, thank God. You two are alright,” Preston said, resting his laser musket on his shoulder.

“What took you so long?” Jack asked as he slung his bag over his shoulders.

“We were over at Sunshine Tidings Co-Op, taking care of a synth attack,” the Minuteman explained. “We saw your flare when we were making rounds, making sure everyone was alright, and we came as quick as we could.”

The two thanked Preston, heading outside of the church and stepping over the dead feral ghouls. Within a few moments of the two stepping outside for the first time in what seemed like forever, a vertibird landed in front of the three and the other Minutemen.

“When the hell did you guys get a vertibird?” Piper asked. “Last time I checked, you guys didn’t have much fire power.”

“The Brotherhood,” Preston answered. “After a negotiation, they allowed us to borrow some of their fire power in return for the holotape Jack got while he was in the Institute, as well as our help in the fight against them. Anyways, let’s head back to Sanctuary, yeah?”

The two nodded, boarding the aircraft. Jack had had enough of this church for one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. This chapter has held a place in my heart ever since I first starting writing Purple over a year ago, (and it absolutely kicked my ass this time around) so I'd love to hear what you think.


	12. Wasteland Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jack and Piper return to Sanctuary, the two take the time to celebrate Christmas.
> 
> Well, as best as they can, given the circumstances.

The vault dweller stood over his workbench, doing just about anything that wasn’t working on some kind of weapon. Instead, Jack decided to think about what had happened just three days ago. It amazed him— how he had broken down right in front of Piper; shouting, crying, speaking nonsense, and she didn’t think any less of him. He had gotten so used to people turning away from him before the bombs dropped due to his mental illnesses. Nobody ever wanted to talk about it, and so, nobody ever truly got better. It was nice to see that it had changed since then.

Jack had to thank Piper. Some of that weight had been removed from his shoulders. And he knew just how to thank her. Christmas was tomorrow, and what better way to show his gratitude than with a gift?

He turned to his steamer truck in the opposite corner of the house, searching through all of the power armor modifications and random junk, eventually coming across what he wanted; a 10mm pistol. Jack set the weapon down on his workbench, grabbing different modifications from his steamer truck every few minutes. After twenty minutes of tinkering with the weapon, he decided to add one last finishing touch. Grabbing his combat knife, he etched the words _Free Speech_ into the side. _If she can’t practice her right to freedom of speech, then let her pistol do the talking._

Jack rubbed his thumb over the words before running across the street to his pre-war home, resting the firearm on the counter.

He stood there for a moment, the memories of multiple Christmas Eves pictured in his mind. The artificial tree next to the Radiation King television set that had to be anchored to the ceiling every year by strong thread (due to their tree having fallen over in previous years), the mistletoe hanging in every single doorway so that he’d be able to kiss Nora more often, and the damn cookies set out on the counter for a made-up jolly character that never really existed, but they set out the cookies anyway. He remembered the cards from family and friends strewn about the house, either resting on any surface they could put them on or hanging on the decorations that they had put up around the windows and walls. He remembered having to vacuum the damn fake pine needles that fell out of the fake tree every year, but always somehow finding them all over, months after the holiday. He even remembered being _so_ excited for Shaun’s first Christmas, and being excited about finally having a _stable_ family life.

Christmas was always such a pleasant time for Jack. A holiday about giving, love, family, and friends. A time where people would set aside their differences and come together to celebrate the fact that they were _alive_ and celebrate the love that seemed to be nonexistent in the world they lived in. And then, afterwards, a new year and new beginning would be ushered in before everyone returned to their normal routine of hating each other.

Jack just chuckled dryly. He didn’t have a tree or a wreath to hang on the door, or cookies to put out on the counter.

Just an empty feeling that probably would never fully return. And any of those stupid pine needles. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were still around, two-hundred and ten years after the fact.

But he’d be damned if he didn’t at least _try_ to bring that feeling back. And, minus those needles.

* * *

 Jack was up earlier than normal the next day, setting things up. His pip-boy read _5:12am, December 25 th, 2287. _He made sure to leave the bunker home quietly, for Piper was still asleep on the couch. Some settlers were returning to their respective houses after finishing their shifts, while others went to begin their shifts. Preston sat quietly at a cooking station, stirring the contents of the pot that hung over the campfire.

“Oh— good morning, General,” the senior officer greeted. “Why are you up so early? The sun is barely up.”

“What? It-It’s Christmas!” Jack exclaimed. “I’m just setting up some stuff for Piper and I.”

“Already? Damn. It seems like you saved us at Concord just yesterday,” Preston replied, gingerly resting his spoon against the side of the pot so he could turn his attention to the vault dweller. “Do you have anything else planned?”

The general scratched his head. “I mean, not really,” he admitted. “I just made a modified pistol for Piper as a way of saying thanks and I was going to decorate my old house with what I have. But if you want to have a little celebration for the settlers, then I’ll gladly help.”

“Really? That’d be great!” Garvey beamed. “What do you have in mind?”

Jack grinned. Maybe a wasteland Christmas wouldn’t be all too bad. “We could check through the old fallout shelter in my house. We didn’t really pack any Christmas stuff, but we’d surely find something in there. Well, if we’re lucky, that is…”

“Why do you say that?” Preston questioned, following Jack.

“When I first left the vault, I went into the old shelter to gather some supplies to find that most of the important stuff was looted,” he explained, leading the Minuteman to his old home. “Turns out, my brother-in-law snuck in before the bombs dropped while we were making our way to the vault. Grabbed everything he could and fled.”

“How’d you know it was him?”

A laugh escaped past his chapped lips. “Kid left a damn note! Don’t know what he was thinking; maybe he foresaw the future or some shit.”

The two reached the shelter and began searching through every box and shelf, and through every room to find something they could use. Tape, tin cans, random broken-down boxes; all the scrap you could ever need.

“I bet we could put this stuff to good use,” Preston stated, stuffing the scrap he scrounged up into a large box.

“Think so?” Jack asked, doing the same with his scrap. “Most of it is just old trash and miscellaneous crap.”

“Sure! I mean, not all of it will work, of course. Anything we have left over will just go to building material for here and other settlements.”

“Well, let’s test that theory,” Jack said, packing up and leaving the shelter with Preston in tow.

* * *

 “We were _super_ lucky to find those old colored lights in one of the houses,” the former soldier called back to Preston as he strung the lights on the walls of his old home.

The entirety of Sanctuary Hills had been decorated with the colored lights and random decorations that Preston, Jack, and some of the other settlers had made with the random scrap. Hell, they even managed to get a few potted plants to represent makeshift Christmas trees in a few of the homes. Despite their limitations, it actually felt _good_ to have Christmas back, even if it was made out of a bunch of tin cans, rope, and tape.

Most of the settlers were awake by now, wandering the settlement to discover that Christmas wasn’t just some distant pre-war memory. Of course, it was nowhere near as great as a pre-war celebration, but it was enough to make everyone happy. Jack may have lost the original feeling, but a new one replaced it.

He brought fucking _Christmas_ back to Sanctuary Hills. And damn, it felt good.

Preston rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Ha! Look at everyone, they’re so damn happy!” He wore the widest smile the vault dweller had ever seen on him as he said, “It wouldn’t have been done without you, General. You have done so much for these people, it’s… it’s incredible! We cannot thank you enough for your generosity.”

 _I’m not as great as you make me out to be._ “Thank you, Preston.”

The senior officer of the Minutemen embraced the general in a hug. “Seriously, we’d be nowhere without you.”

Jack gladly returned the hug. “It-It’s an honor.” The two pulled away from the hug as he said, “I should see if Piper’s up.”

“Good, _good!_ Let her join the celebration,” Preston replied. “I’ll take things from here, Jack.”

“Thanks again.” Leaving his friend to take care of things, the vault dweller headed towards the end of the cul-de-sac where his bunker home resided. Checking his pip-boy, the time read _7:42am. Hopefully she’s up by now._

The metal door creaked as Jack carefully pushed it open. Piper sat on the couch, running a brush through her hair. He couldn’t help but lean his head against the doorframe and watch her. She had somehow managed to captivate him in the matter of one month.

_Come on. Don’t deny it._

Jack just shook his head, entering the home. “Morning, Piper.”

“Oh, hey!” she greeted as she fixed her cap on her head. “Was wondering where you ran off to.”

“Y-Yeah, I got up earlier this morning to, uh, take care of some things.”

“You’ve got me curious,” Piper said, stopping in front of him and poking him in the chest.

“If you’ll allow me, I can show you.” He stepped outside the door, making way for his companion. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Of course, it’s Christmas,” Piper answered. Her eyes widened. “Did you…?”

“I did.”

“You’re _shitting_ me,” she said in disbelief, a laugh following as she took in the sight of a decorated Sanctuary.

“I’m not! I brought Christmas!” Jack exclaimed. “Look! Preston and I found a bunch of scrap and managed to make some decorations out it. We even found some old colored lights. Just needed to attach a wire to ‘em, and now we have fucking _Christmas.”_

“Blue, this is amazing!”

“Come on,” he urged, grabbing Piper’s hand. “I want to show you something.”

Jack lead her inside his old home. Lights hung from the walls, various tin cans held candles, and a potted plant stood on the counter as a makeshift tree. Underneath it was the pistol Jack had made for Piper, four sweet rolls, and two green bottles of Nuka-Cola.

He grabbed both bottles of the soda, handing one to Piper. “How the hell did you manage to find _green_ Nuka-Cola bottles?” she asked, opening it and taking a sip.

“You could say I was a collector of the green ones,” he explained. After taking a few sips of his own Nuka-Cola, Jack grabbed the 10mm pistol, handing it to Piper. “Merry Christmas, Red.”

“Holy shit...” She took the pistol in her hand, admiring the etched words on the side. “ _Thank you._ You didn’t have to do this, but… thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal— you’re my friend, I wanted to do it,” Jack replied. _My best friend, the only damn person who gives a shit about me enough to stay by my side after the worst of me shows._ “And its… sorta a thank you for putting up with me a few days back in Concord.”

Piper holstered her new weapon and rested her hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Blue, you don’t have to thank me for that. You needed someone to listen to, and I gladly listened. Don’t worry about it.”

Jack embraced his companion in a hug. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said as the two pulled away from the hug, smiling.

* * *

Piper silently drummed her hands against her thighs as she listened to Jack play Christmas tunes on his ukulele. Her hand-drumming easily fell in beat with the song. It was a song that she had heard countless of times before. Piper remembered countless nights where her father would quietly sing the song to Nat, in an attempt to make the infant sister fall asleep.

_“Well, baby, I’ve been here before. I’ve seen this room and I’ve walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew ya. And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch, and love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.”_

The sun began to set on Sanctuary while the settlers were huddled around a fire in the middle of once was the road, listening to Jack play Christmas tunes from his past. Piper was half listening, half thinking about something completely irrelevant to what she was currently doing. She knew Jack had just gotten through a rough few days mentally and emotionally. But the idea of Nat becoming just like her had sat in the back of her head for _way_ too long and she needed her companion’s opinion on her situation. _How the hell am I supposed to word it? “I’m afraid my sister will be like me so I’ve been neglecting to be around her and am overall being a horrible sister?”_

Piper shook her head. _The right words will come when you talk to him about it,_ she thought in an attempt to suppress her self-doubt. _They always do eventually flow the way you want them to._

She returned to listening, to find that Jack was on the final verse. _“Well, maybe there’s a God above, but all I’ve ever learned from love, was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya. And it’s not a cry that you hear at night, it’s not somebody who’s seen the light, it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah!”_

He continued with the repeated chorus of the song, and eventually finished it. The settlers and other companions that had joined gave him a round of applause, before he thanked them and they all returned to their jobs or went to their respective homes.

“That felt good,” Jack said, sitting down on a bench.

“You _did_ good, Blue,” Piper replied. “Like, _really_ good.” _Could you say anything lamer?_

“I’m glad you think so. It’s been an amazing day, and I have you and everyone else to thank for it,” he said.

The two fell into a momentary silence, watching the sky blur into a pink and orange blend. The snow on the ground made the sky seem just a bit brighter, making the view even more beautiful.

 _Come on, talk to him. Tell him what’s bothering you- he did it._ She took a deep breath before saying, “You know, Jack, I really appreciate that you’re _not_ an idiot.”

“…Thanks, I guess? Right back at you,” he replied, chuckling.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean like…” Piper trailed off, sighing. “I-I just need some help, some advice. I know you’ve had a rough time in the past few days, but this isn’t something I’d bother anyone else with. And you just seem like someone who has the right advice and would know what to do.”

“Go for it. You helped me, now I got to return the favor. What’s the problem?”

“I… I have an issue. With my sister. Nat. Becoming me.”

“What, like… like a synth?” Jack replied with a sarcastic tone.

Piper chuckled. “No, smartass. I’m just absolutely petrified that she’s going to take up like her big sis. Think about the life we lead, Jack. No offense intended, but our personal safety isn’t really either of our strong suits. I don’t want Nat dodging bullets and running from the people she pisses off. It’s part of the reason I’m out here with you. Maybe, if I’m not around her, she will start to cool off a bit,” Piper paused, sighing. “What do I do, Blue?”

“Wait one second. You’re here to get away from Nat.”

“Well… t-there’s other… reasons,” she replied, her face heating up. _Definitely not just because of Nat._ “But, at the moment, all I can really think about is Nat. What do you think I should do? Because I am lost here.”

“You… you need to be there for her when you can. You just can’t push her away like that,” Jack began to explain. “If you do that, she’ll turn out even worse. You need to just… love her. Even if she doesn’t turn out the way you want her to, she is the one who decides who she is.”

“I… I guess you’re right. Family is precious. You can’t give that up. And… she’s her own person, and she is the master of her fate.”

“See, now you’re getting the idea!”

Piper hugged the vault dweller from the side. “Thank you, Blue. Who would have expected that wandering off with a vault dweller would end up turning out so well? They really don’t make ‘em like they used to. You’re a great friend, you know that, Jack?”

“I try my best. You’re a great friend, too,” he replied. “Well, I think I’m going to hit the hay a bit early tonight. I’ll see ya around tomorrow.”

“Night, Blue,” she said, watching him walk off deeper into the cul-de-sac.

 _You like him._ She wished she could deny the fact that the words were becoming more and more comfortable each day.


	13. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper has every reason to worry about Jack. Especially when he takes her and MacCready on a wild goose chase in the most dangerous place in the Commonwealth.

_“Worry, worry, worry, love is passing me by.”_

Piper watched Jack from afar as he worked on his suit of power armor, singing along with the song on Diamond City Radio. It was a song she knew all too well, having listened to it way too many times.

_“Worry, worry, worry, I’m so painfully shy. Other guys get all the kisses, why am I the one who misses? Worry, worry, worry, woe is me.”_

She couldn’t help but smile as Jack continued. He seemed to have been doing much better since his birthday five days prior, and seeing him in a better mental state was extremely relieving. God knows what he would have done if she wasn’t there to talk him down. Since the moment Piper met him, she had seen Jack as a fearless person who, in the wake of his entire world falling apart, still managed to live day-to-day and persevered through everything thrown at him better than anyone else. _Just goes to show that he can be suffering but you’d never notice,_ she thought.

_“Baby, baby, baby, I’m a fool about love. Maybe, maybe, maybe, I should go to school about love. When it comes to getting chummy, I’ll admit I’m quite a dummy. Worry, worry, worry, woe is me.”_

Piper was about to go and compliment him on his singing for what seemed to be the hundredth time (because she couldn’t think of anything better) when he unbuttoned his flannel shirt and threw it off to the side, exposing his arms and tank-top underneath. She immediately felt her cheeks burning as she adverted her gaze.

 _Come on, Piper. He’s in a damn tank-top. Calm the fuck down._ She pinched the bridge of her nose before walking over to greet him.

_“I found out that I’m the worrying kind, I’ll go worrying right along. Life is fine, but with a worrying mind, so many things can go wrong.”_

The reporter found herself half singing, half mumbling the song to herself. _“Worry, worry, worry, should I hold her so tight? Worry, worry, worry, am I kissing her right? She said ‘Joe, it’s you I’ll marry.’ I’m not Joe, my name is Harry! Worry, worry, worry, woe is me.”_

The song faded out into momentary silence before another song came on, and Jack greeted her with a smile. “Oh- hey, Red.”

“Hey,” she returned, rolling her wrist. “What’re you doing? Well, I mean, I know what you’re doing, but—“

_Quit talking before you get your foot lodged in your mouth. Since when have you had trouble speaking around him?_

“Just fixing the armor up,” Jack answered. He lightly tapped his wrench against the leg before standing up. “Would you be interested in going to the Glowing Sea?”

 _The what now?_ “Are you crazy, Blue?”

“I never said I wasn’t. Besides, Preston has asked me to find a whole small army’s worth of equipment and weapons for the Minutemen,” he said.

“Do you know how _dangerous_ that is? We could both die!” Piper protested with reasonable concern. _I— We don’t need to lose him, let alone the both of us._

“Piper, my dearest, closest friend,” he said, “you’re looking at the man who went to the Institute and survived. You think I’m stupid enough to let the three of us die?”

_“Three?”_

“We’re bringing MacCready with us,” Jack said. “We’ll be fine, alright? It’ll be you, me, and the greatest sharpshooter we know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if he gets our asses killed, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” _I’m only going with you so you don’t fucking die._

Jack flashed her another smile before climbing into the portable tank that was his power armor. “That is a _lot_ of metal,” Piper said. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a set for me?”

His voice was filtered through his helmet to sound mechanical and slightly muffled. “Of course, I’ve got a set for you. It’s behind the house, next to MacCready’s set.”

Piper nodded before finding her suit of power armor. The T-60 set donned Minutemen logos, and painted a navy-blue color. She stepped into the suit, nearly losing her footing at first. After taking a few steps, she finally got a handle of walking in the clunky armor— although, it would _definitely_ take some practice.

She joined Jack in front of the house, and a few moments later, MacCready did as well.

“Is everyone ready to go?” Jack asked, rifle at the ready in his metal hands.

“As ready as we could ever be,” RJ answered.

“Why are we wearing power armor when we could be wearing radiation suits instead, Blue?”

“Because I’m not going back to Diamond City to buy three suits,” he replied. “Now, c’mon. We’ve got military equipment to find.”

* * *

“I swear to God, Blue, we’re just in the Glowing Sea so you have something to do that isn’t thinking,” Piper said, obviously irritated.

“Don’t accuse me of things I obviously do,” Jack replied. “Either way, we need to find the equipment. The Minutemen aren’t going to be able to defeat the Institute with what they have now.”

“I thought you guys got stocked up by the Brotherhood?” RJ questioned. “Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“They only gave us so much,” he answered. “And before either of you say anything, this is necessary to defeating the Institute.”

Piper rolled her eyes under her helmet. “Come on, let’s just find whatever we need to find and get the hell out of here.”

“I second that.”

“Alright, fine. The place we’re looking for should be around here somewhere—“

Jack’s sentence was cut off by the sounds of an angry, growling, irradiated lizard.

“Deathclaw!” MacCready shouted, immediately taking aim and firing.

Piper and Jack swiftly ran for cover, using the rocks as a hiding spot. The glowing deathclaw dodged every bullet that came flying towards it, much to the group’s dismay. It stomped over to the two, slamming its foot into the ground, shaking them off balance. A shot rang out and hit the deathclaw in its snout, and Godzilla immediately turned its attention to MacCready.

“Oh, sh— _crap,_ ” he said, firing a few more shots at the mutated lizard. Jack jumped out from behind his cover, rifle aimed at the deathclaw’s back.

“Jack! What the— what are you _doing?_ ” Piper shouted, following him.

Ignoring his companion, the former soldier loaded two rounds of his rifle into the back of the kaiju-like creature. The deathclaw wasn’t even phased by it, and picked the power armor clad general up. In an attempt to free himself, Jack shot the deathclaw in the eye, to which it responded by throwing him off to the side. Piper watched in horror as he rolled down a nearby small hill, landing in a large puddle of nuclear waste and irradiated water.

She wouldn’t admit it, but Jack sort of deserved it. _And you were the one who said we’d be alright. Karma’s a bitch, right?_

“I could use a little help here!” MacCready exclaimed as he began hitting the deathclaw with his rifle as if it were a baseball bat.

 _You’re an idiot, RJ._ Piper switched out her 10mm for her hunting rifle. Multiple shots to the beast’s belly pulled its attention away from MacCready, buying him some time to rejuvenate. She jumped out of the way just in time as the deathclaw swiped its claws in her direction. Piper groaned in frustration, shooting again.

Next thing she knew, a grenade landed between Piper and the deathclaw. “Red, _look out!_ ” she heard Jack cry out.

Piper swiftly jumped back, falling to the ground as the grenade exploded. Her ears rung from the explosion, her vision blurring slightly. The deathclaw howled in pain in response, and fell to the ground after a bullet went straight through its head.

“Piper!” her name was being shouted, by God knows who. Her ears continued to ring, and no matter how many times she blinked, her vision was still screwed up. _“Piper!”_

Finally, her ears stopped ringing. “Are you alright?” she could hear MacCready saying.

“W-What? Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered as her vision became clear again. A big suit of power armor that housed Robert Joseph MacCready hovered over her.

The mercenary reached his hand out. “Come on, we gotta get Jack,” he told her as he pulled Piper up off the ground.

The two found the former soldier resting on his knee. The armor of his left arm was broken in certain spots, revealing the frame underneath, that had several tears in it.

“You guys alright?” Jack asked as his companions approached him.

“We should be the ones asking you that question,” MacCready replied.

“I’m fine. Just a few scratches.”

Piper scoffed. “A few? Your left arm is fucked up from that deathclaw, Blue.”

“Nothing a bit of repairs can’t fix,” he replied, standing up with his rifle in hand.

The reporter shook her helmeted head. “You are _so_ unbelievably stubborn, Jackson.”

“And that’s why we get along so well.”

“Shut up.”

“Quit bickering, guys. We need to get that equipment,” MacCready butted in. “You two bicker like an old married couple.”

Piper’s face began to burn, and she was lucky she had her helmet on so they couldn’t see her blush.

“MacCready is right,” Jack said. “Let’s go.”

* * *

“Hey! Come check this out,” MacCready shouted, waving his hand so the other two could see him. They quickly joined his side. “Come look at this abandoned shack. There’s a basement in it!”

Piper and Jack followed the mercenary down through the trapdoor. Through the door was an office that lead to the main room; a federal surveillance base filled with tons of technology.

“Well, well,” MacCready began, “looks like we stumbled into one of the government’s dirty little secrets.”

“As if there weren’t enough,” the former soldier said.

The reporter leaned her hands on the railing, looking down. “How far down does this place go?” she wondered aloud. Suddenly, her fear of heights caught up to her, and she backed away. “You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“Hey, I found a holotape!” RJ exclaimed, handing it to Jack.

He slid it into his pip-boy, and listened. _“This is government employee number zero-one-one-nine… oh, screw this government bullshit. This is Buzensky. The sirens… they came so fast. Then the alarm. The only ones we could save were those who were on duty. Stevens had left to get something from his car. Stevens… he’s gone. We had to close the door before he could even turn around. Protocol said we had to. I could… I could hear him screaming._

_“That was days ago. We’re already running out of food. This place was… not stocked as well as they claimed. Goddamn budget cuts. If anyone’s listening to this, my name is Jeff Buzensky. Tell my wife, Wilma, that I love her. Goodbye.”_

With that, the holotape stopped. “God-fucking-dammit,” Jack mumbled.

“You weren’t wrong when you said pre-war America was screwed up, Blue,” Piper said.

“All they cared about was their damn money,” he started. “They never gave a shit about their people. Might have been more humane if they just let all their workers here die in the blast rather than starving to death.”

Piper rested her armored hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s not dwell on it, Blue.”

“Yeah. We’ve got to find the equipment for the Minutemen, right?” MacCready added on.

Jack just shook his head. _What’s going on in that brain of yours, dollface?_ Piper found herself thinking.

“Y-You’re right. Let’s go,” he said.

The group climbed down the stairs, looking anywhere and everywhere to find something. Jack stopped dead in his tracks, holding his fist up to tell his companions to stop. “Listen,” he whispered. “Synths.”

“My servos seem to be malfunctioning,” one synth said.

“The area seems to be clear,” another synth claimed.

Piper looked over the railing onto the bottom floor below. Four synths patrolled the last floor, their laser weapons at the ready.

“On the count of three, we run down the stairs and attack. Sync?” Jack told the other two.

“Sync,” MacCready replied.

“Sink?” the reporter asked in confusion.

 _“Sync,”_ Jack said once more. “One… two… three… go!”

The three stormed down the stairs, firing the moment they set foot on the bottom floor.

“Enemy contact,” one of the synths spoke, only to get their head shot off seconds later.

The synth leader grabbed a shock baton, rushing towards Jack. One swift armored punch was enough to take down the leader. MacCready and Piper finished off the other two synths with relative ease.

“Coast is clear,” RJ said. “Now, let’s find what we need, and get the hell out of here. Sync?”

“Sync,” Jack replied.

“I still have no clue what that means,” Piper added, shrugging in her power armor.

“Military lingo,” MacCready told her. “The Gunners acquired it from the U.S Military.”

The three continued to search the underground government base, looking for _anything_ that may or may not help the Minutemen out. The reporter was starting to get frustrated. They had come here to the Glowing Sea, fought a goddamn _glowing deathclaw_ and synths, all for nothing! Piper wouldn’t be surprised if he _knew_ there’d be nothing here. She had taken notice that they were doing everything that wasn’t fighting the Institute or building up more settlements. _I wonder if he’s just distracting himself from everything else…_

Whatever. It didn’t matter at the moment. They needed to find some military tech and equipment— if there even was any here.

“I swear to God, if there’s nothing here—“

“Hey! Come take a look at this, guys!” Jack said, cutting Piper off.

Her and RJ quickly joined him. They found him in front of a large metal door with a terminal next to it. Jack quickly hacked into the terminal and opened the locks on the door. Piper’s jaw dropped as they entered the room. It was stocked _full_ with sets of power armor and tons of weapons.

 _How in the hell did those synths_ not _find this?_

“Jackpot!” MacCready exclaimed. “We should grab as much as we can here, y’know, to help out.”

The group grabbed everything they could hold; grenades, mines, ammo, small weapons, and combat armor.

“Worth it now, Piper?” Jack jibed, grabbing a few last things before heading out the door.

She followed behind him, RJ in tow. “I mean, yeah, but you almost got _killed!_ ”

“I’m fine, Red,” he told her. Laughing, he said, “let’s get out of here. Hate to irritate you any further.”

The reporter only scoffed. “Finally.”

* * *

It felt great to get out of that clunky power armor.

MacCready was alright off doing his own thing, while Jack was talking to Preston about getting some Minutemen rounded up to go to the Glowing Sea to retrieve everything else. _Bless their souls, whoever goes. They’ll need it._

Piper laid down on the bed inside of her companion’s bunker home. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes that rested on the bedside table, and lit up a cigarette. She took a drag, and blew the smoke out into the air above her. Closing her eyes, the reporter felt her nerves calming down after that damned trip to hell. God knows she needed it.

She flicked the ashes into the ashtray on the bedside table as Jack walked in.

“Danse went with a group of Minutemen to the federal surveillance center,” he said, sitting down on the stool across from Piper.

“He actually went with them?” she asked in utter disbelief. She didn’t think Danse would ever help the Minutemen in any way.

Jack laughed. “He knows the deal between us and the Brotherhood. Helping the Minutemen by retrieving things that will help the fight against the Institute means helping the Brotherhood and their fight against the Institute.”

Piper still didn’t like the idea of the Brotherhood and Minutemen working together. It just spelled trouble in her book. But if it meant the destruction of the Institute, who was she to complain?

“Throw me your smokes, would ya?” he asked. She tossed them to him, and he thanked her as he caught them in one hand.

She took another drag of her cigarette before she said, “so what the hell is with you doing everything that isn’t fighting the Institute?”

Jack wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Piper, today was a huge advancement. What are you talking about?”

“Okay, fair. The Minutemen are stronger because of today,” Piper said, “but what about everything else? It’s… it’s like you’re distracting yourself from doing anything involving the Institute.”

“You would too if your only surviving family member was the director of the Institute.”


	14. No Greater Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Scared of my own image, scared of my own immaturity,  
> Scared of my own ceiling, scared I'll die of uncertainty,  
> Fear might be the death of me, fear leads to anxiety,  
> Don't know what's inside of me.
> 
> Don't forget about me, don't forget about me,  
> Even when I doubt you, I'm no good without you."
> 
> Doubt - twenty one pilots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend reading the last few lines of the previous chapter just to get caught up with what is going on in this one. 
> 
> Also, a sidenote: there is a lot of back and forth between Jack's thinking and his mental inner voice. His thinking in this chapter will be in regular text, while his inner voice will be in italics. This will be the idea for the future chapters. 
> 
> If it's only his inner voice and there is no going back and forth, it will be in italics. If it's just Jack and not his inner voice, that will be in italics.
> 
> Okay? Okay. I know, confusing, but I wanted to clear that up. Once you see it, it should make more sense. Enough of my ramblings, go ahead and enjoy this chapter.

Jack broke his gaze with Piper as his words hit her. He never thought she would catch on to his complete procrastination on his main goal; destroying the Institute. The former soldier had ignored the topic (save a few choice times) for a damn reason.

 _You’re an idiot. You forget that figuring things out is her goddamn_ job.

Shut up. I know _._

_Well, let’s get this over with, then._

“It hurts like _hell,_ Piper,” he continued. “And I can’t do _much_ about it. So, I _distance_ myself from it.”

“Blue, you’ve got to face it at some point,” the ace reporter told him, taking a drag of her cigarette.

_Hahaha… that’s funny. We both know that you’ll just keep pushing it away._

“I know, dammit. I know,” Jack said, “but I just _can’t_ deal with it at the moment.”

_She should be proud! You actually did something that aided the fight against the Institute today. Where is the ‘oh, I’m so proud of you, Blue,’ huh?_

Shut the hell up. I don’t need that.

_That’s funny. You’ve lived your whole life wanting some kind of satisfaction, some approval for the ‘good’ things you’ve done. Ha._

Jack shook off his doubting inside voice. Why was it becoming so damn obvious now?

“He called Nora’s death ‘collateral damage.’ Collateral _fucking_ damage, Piper!” he said, continuing to fume with frustration.

_Pfft. The way you keep thinking about Piper makes it seem like Nora’s death was collateral damage not only to Shaun, but to you, too._

That’s a lie.

_Then act like it, you insolent fool._

“Did you ever think about the fact that Nora’s death didn’t mean much to him _because_ he never had her as a mother? Never _knew_ her?”

_She has a point._

“That doesn’t make me feel _any_ better!” Jack exclaimed. His voice lowered to nearly a whisper as he said, “I failed as a father. I failed as a husband. There’s no greater pain than that.”

With that, the former soldier left Piper in thought as he stormed off.

* * *

Jack stepped into the remnants of what was Shaun’s old room. A chair and desk had been set up where his son’s crib used to stay. He remembered breaking the poor crib after he left the vault, breaking down into tears not too long after in a fit of rage and frustration. The remnants of the light blue crib laid discarded in the corner.

_How could I have let this happen?_

Tears stung at his eyes, threatening to spill over as Jack grabbed a random large box and shoved the broken pieces into it. He carried the box outside and threw it as hard and as far as he could, not caring if anyone was watching his tantrum or if the pieces inside the box scattered across the ground.

_Another part of my life, discarded. Maybe it’s better that way._

Jack’s vision blurred— from tears or infuriation, he didn’t know. His knees seemed to buckle underneath him and the next thing he knew, his knees were in the dirt. He leaned back to sit on his legs, balled fists wiping at his eyes. Piper was suddenly by his side (he never heard her coming) and grabbed hold of his wrists.

“Blue, are you alright?” Piper asked.

_Is she stupid? Look at you!_

“D-Do I look _alright_ to you?” Jack snarled, ripping his wrists out of Piper’s grip.

Piper stood up, offering him her hand. “Come on, don’t be that way, Jack.”

After a moment of considering his options (lay on the ground and pout, or allow Piper to help him) he grabbed his companion’s hand. She pulled him up off the ground, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

The two locked eyes, and he saw his companion smile at him. He couldn’t help but smile weakly back. Even in one of his weakest moments, Piper could still manage to make him smile.

_You’re so goddamn smitten._

Jack hated to admit it, but it was true. In the short time that he knew the reporter, he had fallen _hard._ He had fallen for his closest friend— his _best friend._ That spelled disaster in his book. It had happened once before and almost ended in disaster, and he didn’t want that this time around.

But by God, he just could not get over her smile. Or any other part of her, for that fact.

“I know it hurts like hell,” Piper started, “I really do. But I know for a _fact_ that you will succeed, okay? You’re Jack _goddamn_ Schmidt. If anyone can bring down the Institute, it’s _you._ ”

If only his love for his companion could outweigh his own self-hatred.

“You can say that all you _fucking_ want. But _I_ know for a fact that I’m only destined for failure.”

Piper let out an exasperated and slightly over exaggerated sigh as she stomped over in front of him. “God, give me the patience! Jack, what is it going to take for you to realize that you are a goddamn _good_ person?”

“Don’t _you_ realize that I have too many damn skeletons hiding in my closet?” Jack retaliated. His voice grew slightly louder as he said, “All this shit that’s happened to me? Losing my wife, my son, the goddamn _world?_ It’s been _karma,_ Piper. And I have a feeling this world isn’t _fucking done_ with me yet. Keeping my damn head up _isn’t_ an option anymore!”

“It _would_ be an option if you didn’t keep moping around like a goddamn idiot!”

Jack couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he looked at the ground. All of the feelings he was feeling about her just a few minutes ago had vanished. He was slightly thankful for that, but a part of him just wanted those feelings to return.

Instead, he just shook his head as he said in almost a whisper voice, “and you just proved my point.”

The former soldier didn’t even look for any signs of regret in Piper’s face before storming off for a second time. He didn’t know where the hell he was going, but he eventually found himself at the fallout shelter that he built not too long after him and Nora moved in. At least his brother-in-law got the most use out of it as he could. Jack just wished he could have been down there instead of being frozen in a vault for two-hundred years. Perhaps it would have been more humane if he was slaughtered by the nuclear winter after the bombs dropped or by the remnants of civilization.

Jack opened the bulkhead doors and stepped down the stairs into the dimly lit shelter. With a flip of a switch, the entire room lit up. Half of the supplies were gone even after he had left the vault— courtesy of Vincent Ashwood, his brother-in-law.

He hadn’t moved the damn letter at all since he first came down here after waking up. God knows why Vinny ever left a letter in the first place; as if he _knew_ Jack would somehow come along two centuries later to find that his shelter was looted by a family member.

The vault dweller grabbed the letter that sat on one of the many shelves, looking down at his brother-in-law’s near chicken scratch handwriting. Jack chuckled to himself as he read it over for the thousandth time since he first found it.

“At least you were probably killed _long_ before you figured out what happened to your sister and I,” he spoke aloud, as if the spirit of his brother-in-law could hear him. “Dying believing that we were safe in the vault is definitely better than learning the truth.”

“Your brother-in-law would have been proud of you making it this far, Jack.” Piper’s voice echoed through the room and reached his ears.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” Jack hissed in reply, setting the old letter down in its eternal spot.

“Come on, Blue. I _know_ you. Also, I followed you here,” she explained, leaning up against the wall.

“Look, I shouldn’t have said what I did up there. But everything else? I _meant_ all of that. You’re the strongest person I know. If you just _believe_ in yourself, for once in your life, you can get through all this shit. You’ve already gotten so far.”

Jack laughed. He laughed _hard._ “ _Strongest person_ you _know?_ That’s funny. Real funny. Didn’t you just see the little breakdown I had? Or the one I had back in the Concord Church?”

“That means _nothing,_ Jack. What matters is that _you_ are still standing through all the shit thrown at you!”

Maybe she was true, but Jack didn’t _want_ to believe it.

Piper continued with, “I completely understand where you’re coming from. I’ve _been_ there.”

Jack’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “You have?”

The reporter scoffed. “Try running a newspaper while getting death threats and not-so-constructive criticism. I may come off as a confident person, but after so much builds up, it does a great deal to your self-esteem.”

“Yeah, well you’re _good_ at what you do,” Jack replied. “You shouldn’t let that drag you down.”

“And _you_ shouldn’t let those self-deprecating thoughts of yours get to you. But guess what, Jack? We _both_ do,” Piper shot back. “Do you know how many nights I’ve wasted, rewriting articles for hours on end with tears in my eyes? Way _too_ many. Yet, here I am, still pushing forward.

“Listen… you’re _blue_ -tiful, Jack,” she ended, trying to add some sort of humor to the situation.

“I’m sad and you’re making _puns._ ”

Piper chuckled lightly. “Look, my point is… if _I_ can feel like I am _horrible_ at what I do, if I can _hate_ myself like I have in the past and somewhat still do, and _still_ be able to keep going, then you can, too.”

All the former soldier could do was look down at his feet. Piper was right, but part of him wouldn’t admit it. _Who is she to compare your horrible acts to what she’s gone through?_ His inner voice continued to nag at him in the back of his mind.

 _You know damn well that you’re too_ far _gone. Let your impulses take over._

Not yet.

“Blue, we both have horrible insecurities that cut deep, alright?” Piper told him. “We can get through those, _together._ ”

_That’s all you want, right? Fine. Go for it, Killer._

His companion— _no,_ best friend _(your damn crush and you know it)_ held out her hand to him once more. Jack grabbed it without hesitation, falling into her embrace. Her nimble fingers ran through his matted and snarly hair. In that moment, the former soldier and current general felt at home. Since he left the vault, nowhere seemed to feel cozy enough to be home, but finally, he had found where he was supposed to be.

With his companion. With _Piper._ And it just felt _right._

* * *

Jack’s pencil scratched against the paper of his sketch book. He meant to be writing down some sort of notes; maybe it was ways to make the Minutemen stronger, or some kind of poetry, but it wasn’t that _at all._ Instead, an unfinished bust drawing of his favorite Diamond City reporter stared back at him. In the corner of the page, twelve words were scribbled down. They read _“You are so special. How did the universe come up with you?”_

_You’re so fucking cringe-y._

He immediately pushed the thought out of his head as he continued his work on the portrait. Shading, proportions, perspective… Jack wanted to make sure that it was perfect, just like the person he was drawing.

Just then, the woman of the hour walked into his pre-war bedroom. “Hey, trouble.” Piper leaned up against the door frame, arms crossed. “What’re you up to?”

Jack could have sworn she stood the same exact way Nora did the day the bombs fell. “Just… sketching some things,” he said, flipping over to the next page. “Why’d you ask?”

“Just curious. You know me,” she admitted, her mossy green eyes dropping to the floor as she chuckled. “I was wondering if you were up for a bit of adventuring later?”

A wicked grin grew on Jack’s face. “You bet. And I’ve got the perfect place.”

“The last time you had the ‘perfect place’ we got attacked by ghouls.”

“Touché,” he returned, “but we’ll be heading somewhere… interesting. Consider it my thanks for helping me earlier.”

“Alright,” Piper agreed. “Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this rewrite taking so long to get done. I took a long break after finishing thirteen, had an end of summer party, and high school started up again this month. Besides that, this chapter has been hard to write, considering how much emotional shit is in it.
> 
> Since school is back, I will be returning to my normal schedule of trying to get chapters out every weekend. Emphasis on "trying." Hopefully, these rewrites will be done before Christmas and I can return to uploading regular chapters. 
> 
> Stay tuned for the rest of the rewrites, as well as the other chapters- Purple has forty-seven chapters in total, so I'll be uploading the rest of the fic as soon as I finish the rewrites.


	15. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a visit to Fraternal Post 115 and a New Years party for him to realize it. 
> 
> Jack has an epiphany.

As the two arrived at Fraternal Post 115, Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The building he was supposed to deliver a speech in two-hundred and ten years ago looked so different. Moss and plant life climbed the walls and windows of the fraternity post, as if Mother Nature had finally taken back what was hers. Cracks spread through the entire building, the vegetation growing between each and every tiny crack. The nuclear blast had given the bricks a faded, aged color. If Jack didn’t know any better, he would have thought it was a different building.

“What are we doing here?” asked Piper. He could see the curiosity on her face.

“This, my dearest friend, is Fraternal Post 115,” Jack explained. “I was supposed to give a speech here.”

“What it looks like is a great spot for an ambush.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jack reassured her. “If anything happens, you know I’ve got your back.”

“And I begrudgingly have yours,” the reporter jibed as she elbowed him lightly in the side.

Piper followed closely behind Jack, her right hand rested on the 10mm pistol her companion had gifted her. As the two stepped carefully inside, Jack noted the large bloody bags hanging from the ceiling. _Mutants._ He held his fist in the air next to his head, telling his companion to stop.

The former soldier lowered himself to one knee, and Piper did the same. “I bet you a bottle of Quantum that there’s mutants here,” he whispered.

Piper rolled her eyes. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Jack chuckled at her response. _Of course she’d say that._ “Well, you know what? Fuck you, Watson. On my signal, we’ll run in and take out anything in our way. Sync?”

“I still don’t know what the hell that means.”

“Go!” he whisper-shouted before rushing into the room. Upon entry, the entire main room was empty. There was plenty of piles of God-knows-what burning throughout the room. Parts of the ceiling had caved in over time. The podium and microphone at the front of the room seemed to be the only thing that was still relatively intact. An American flag was draped over one side, seemingly worn and weathered from the years.

This wasn’t the Fraternal Post Jack had known before the war. Not at all.

 _Come on, this is supposed to be a_ good _trip down memory lane. No negativity, please, for once,_ his inner voice told himself.

Piper let up on her guard, seeing that the room was completely clear of any threat. “Looks like you owe me that Nuka-Cola Quantum, Blue,” she joked, bumping his hip with her own.

Jack let himself ease up a little at hearing her words. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he stepped up behind the podium, brushing off the old flag. He could practically see what could have been a room filled with his former officers, retired soldiers and their families, and other civilians, all there to watch him perform a speech about how “war, war never changes.”

It was sort of bittersweet, like nearly everything else in his life, now.

The speech he had written so long ago had somehow stuck around in his head. He recalled the entire thing in his head:

_“In the year 1945, my great-great grandfather, serving in the army, wondered when he'd get to go home to his wife and the son he'd never seen. He got his wish when the US ended World War II by dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The World awaited Armageddon; instead, something miraculous happened. We began to use atomic energy not as a weapon, but as a nearly limitless source of power. People enjoyed luxuries once thought the realm of science fiction. Domestic robots, fusion-powered cars, portable computers. But then, in the 21st century, people awoke from the American dream. Years of consumption lead to shortages of every major resource. The entire world unraveled. Peace became a distant memory. It is now the year 2077. We stand on the brink of total war, and I am afraid. For myself, for my wife, for my infant son - because if my time in the army taught me one thing: it's that war… war never changes.”_

_And now it’s gone,_ he thought to himself. _All gone. Just a memory now._

Suddenly, Jack felt a piece of fabric wrap around his shoulders. Piper was in the corner of his vision, wrapping a blue scarf around his neck.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back with an equal amount of brightness. “It’s your color.”

“Thanks, Red.” He hugged her with one arm after adjusting the scarf around his neck. “I love it.”

They sat in silence for a few moments; Jack’s arm slung over her shoulders, while Piper leaned up against him. As he let go of her, she broke the silence. “I-I didn’t get the chance to give it to you on Christmas, or the day following.”

“You don’t need to give me an explanation, Piper,” he told her. “It’s probably the best gift you could give me.”

 _That, or you know, confessing your damn love to me?_ Jack found himself thinking. He tried to shake the thought from his mind, but it found a hiding spot in the back of his skull.

Looking down, Jack noticed a bottle of Nuka-Cola Quantum and a copy of _Guns & Bullets, _issue three sitting on one of the shelves inside the podium. He swiped the magazine from its spot and carefully stuffed it in his bag before grabbing the bottle of soda.

“How convenient.” Jack tossed Piper the drink. “Here.”

Piper nearly dropped it, but caught it in time. “Blue, I was joking about the whole bet thing. I don’t even like Quantum.”

“Really? _You_ don’t like Nuka-Cola Quantum? That surprises me. Either way, I insist.”

She groaned in return. “Fine, if you insist. Damn you and your generosity.”

The moment the reporter stuffed the bottle away in her bag, super mutants came bursting through the door.

“For cryin’ out loud,” Jack said, grabbing his rifle. “Looks like I’ll be needing that soda back, Red.”

“Ha ha ha. Very funny, Blue,” Piper said sarcastically. “Just shoot them!”

The two immediately took cover behind the podium and the sandbags that had been set up, firing back at the mutants. Jack looked over the side of their cover to find that they were pinned down by a mutant with a machine gun.

“Well, we’re screwed,” the reporter stated. “Unless you’ve got a plan.”

“Yeah! Of c-course I have a plan,” he replied.

“You don’t have a plan, do you.”

“Nope.”

“Thought so.”

 _Come on Jack, make an observation that could save your damn life._ Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small crate filled with grenades up against the wall.

“Piper, take my rifle and provide covering fire,” he told her, shoving the rifle in her hands. “I need to get to that crate of grenades.”

His companion nodded in response, taking Jack’s weapon and firing upon the super mutants. Jack ran out from his cover, diving onto the floor and grabbed a grenade. Just as he was about to pull the pin and throw it, a suicide bomber mutant came running into the building.

Jack safely placed the grenade in his bag before sprinting over to Piper, grabbing her by the collar of her coat. “Come on, we need to get upstairs,” he said, pulling her out of the mutant’s path. They ran up the nearby stairwell, nearly tripping on each stair in an effort to avoid a fiery death.

“Thanks, Blue.” Piper gave a sigh of relief.

Jack smiled at her. “Now we’re even. You saved me in that fight at Sanctuary, I saved you here.”

“Don’t push it,” she joked. “I could have let that rocket hit you, you know.”

The vault dweller pushed himself up off the floor before he helped Piper up. “But you didn’t. C’mon, we’ve got mutants to kill.”

The two took cover behind the wall at the end of the stairs. Jack grabbed the grenade out of his bag, pulled the pin, and threw the explosive into the room. The explosion made his ears ring, but the room was finally clear of super mutants.

It may never be the same building that it was before the bombs dropped, but at least he’s returned _some_ kind of glory to it.

And he was okay with that.

The two emerged from their cover. “It’s not much,” Jack began, “but I feel like I did this place some justice after cleansing it of the mutants.”

“Why is this place so special to you, Blue?” Piper asked with genuine curiosity.

Jack’s eyes locked with hers. “That speech I was supposed to give?”

“What about it?”

“I was supposed to give it on the day the bombs dropped,” he told her.

“Oh.”

The vault dweller sat down on a nearby crate. “Yeah. It’s just odd, you know? It’s kind of a superstitious thing in my head but… I sometimes wonder if the world would have been spared if I was able to give my speech. Like… if we had just made it that far into the day, we would be safe. I know it probably wouldn’t have made any difference, but it’s something I think about often.”

“I get it,” Piper said. “I do the same thing with my dad’s death. I sometimes wonder if he would’ve lived if he had missed his night shift. Like you said, it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. Mayburn probably would have come after him anyways.”

“Thank God. I didn’t think anyone would get it,” Jack admitted. “But… I guess this world hasn’t turned out to be a _total_ bust. Everything may be absolutely fucking horrible, but at least I’ve got you and the others to help me through it all.”

“That’s… oddly optimistic of you, Blue. Even after your episode from earlier.”

Jack just shrugged. “I’m just trying to be positive for a change.”

“It’s bittersweet, isn’t it?”

His eyes dropped to the floor. “There’s really no better word for it.”

“Guess not,” Piper concluded. “Let’s head home.”

The former soldier stood up, slinging his weapon over his shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go. New Years is in a few days. Maybe we can have a small party or something with the others?”

“I’m down,” Piper agreed.

“Awesome.”

* * *

Left over Christmas lights hung from the walls of the _House of Tomorrow_. It was the first New Year’s Eve that Jack and his companions had spent together. Bottles of alcohol were littered across one of the counters, waiting to be opened. Everyone sat in a circle around Jack’s Pip-Boy, watching the time and waiting for it to strike 12:00 midnight. The tunes of Diamond City Radio filled the living room, leaving everyone in high spirits.

“Alright folks!” Travis’ confident voice beamed through the radio. “Here’s the perfect song for your New Year’s Eve. Here is BJ Thomas with _Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head._ Enjoy.”

“Yes! I love this song,” Jack exclaimed, opening up a bottle of wine.

_Raindrops keep falling on my head, and just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed, nothing seems to fit. Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling._

“Jack, you love _all_ the songs that Travis plays,” MacCready pointed out.

“Touché, Mac,” he replied. “But he has a good taste in music.”

“Hey, Jacky boy, hand me a bottle a’ whiskey, why don’t ya?” Cait asked him.

_But there’s one thing I know, the blues they send won’t defeat me. It won’t be long ‘till happiness steps up to greet me._

Jack spun around, bottle of wine in hand. “I would, but you aren’t lookin’ too good, Cait. You feelin’ alright?”

“What? I-I’m fine,” she protested, stuttering. “Just get me a damn drink. It’s New Year’s after all.”

 “Alright,” he agreed, “but don’t get yourself hammered.”

The Irish fighter stood to meet him. “Thanks,” she said, taking the bottle. Suddenly, Cait grabbed his shirt and pulled him slightly closer to whisper something to him. “Listen, I need your help, Jacky boy.”

“What is it?” Jack whispered back. “And why are we whispering?”

With her hold still on his shirt, Cait pulled him into one of the back rooms. “Listen, I got myself addicted to chems. And it’s gettin’ pretty bad.”

“I don’t think this is the best time to—”

“I _know_ that, but I couldn’t keep it hidden from ya any longer,” she told him. “There’s a vault out by the Glowing Sea. Vault 95. Vault-Tec used it to cleanse drug addicts of their addictions. ‘Course, it went horribly wrong, but there’s a chamber where they cleansed the residents of their addictions.”

“You want me to take you there?” Jack asked.

“That’s the plan, Jacky boy. And I’d recommend we do it soon, because I’m not sure how much longer I can take of this,” she told him.

“Why don’t we go out midday tomorrow?”

“Sounds fine to me,” Cait agreed.

“Just… try not to get drunk, alright?” Jack warned her.

“No promises,” she said, smiling. “Alright, back to the party.”

As the two returned back to the living room, Deacon proposed an idea. “Hey, why don’t we play truth or dare?”

“I’m down,” Preston agreed.

“Yeah!” Cait and Piper exclaimed simultaneously.

“Sounds like fun,” MacCready decided.

“Eh, why the heck not?” Nick said.

Danse crossed his arms, obviously not amused. “Why would you all want to play such a childish game?”

“C’mon, ya tin can,” Piper said. “Don’t be such a Debbie Downer, huh?”

“I wish you’d refrain from using that nickname,” Danse complained.

“Come on, Danse,” Nick urged. “Even _I’m_ playing.”

“Yeah, play it with us,” the former soldier said, trying to convince him. “You got out of your power armor and everything to celebrate with us.”

Finally, the tin can man gave in. “Fine. I’ll play. But the moment I get a drastic dare, I will not hesitate to stop playing.”

“Alright,” Deacon announced. “Who wants to go first?”

As the game began, the uplifting song went through its final verse.

_Raindrops keep falling on my head, but that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turning red. Crying’s not for me, ‘cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complaining. Because I’m free, nothing’s worrying me._

“I will!” Piper exclaimed. “Hmm… Jack, truth or dare?”

“Hit me with a dare,” he said.

The reporter could barely keep a straight face as she said, “I dare you to kiss RJ.”

The entire room erupted into laughter, while MacCready protested. “No _way!”_

“Yeah, I’m with Mac on this one,” Jack said. “Have you _seen_ his teeth?”

“That’s the point,” Piper said, laughing.

“Nah, I’ll pass for that one. I’ll kiss Preston, if you want me to,” he considered.

“Go for it,” the reporter told him.

“Can _I_ chicken out on this one?” Preston tried to protest, his entire face burning.

“It won’t be that bad,” Jack told him. “Just a quick peck.”

“Alright, fine,” the senior officer finally agreed, standing up to meet the general.

The two leaned in and pressed their lips together for a few seconds before pulling away. The entire room clapped, and the two Minutemen bowed jokingly. Jack gave Preston a high-five before they both sat back down on the floor.

“Okay. Deacon, truth or dare!”

Deacon snickered. “Come on, Jack. You know me.”

“Going to take that as a dare then,” Jack said. “I dare you to wear Danse’s sweaty BOS hood for the rest of the game.”

“Gross,” Deacon declared. “I’ll do it.”

Danse just sighed as he handed the hood to Deacon.

With the hood placed securely on his bald head, Deacon picked someone new. “Piper, truth or dare?”

“Truth, Deeks.”

 “Is it true that you have a crush on our favorite pre-war vault dweller?” Deacon asked.

Piper’s face began to burn. She looked down at her hands in her lap to avoid anyone seeing her face. “N-No. Not at all,” she told him.

“Are you absolutely sure about that?” Deacon jibed.

“Yes!”

Jack smiled at Deacon, who winked at him. _Maybe she does like you. That answer was_ not _suspicious at all. Definitely not._

The master of disguise laughed. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing you. Who’s next?”

Piper let out a breath that she didn’t even know she was holding onto. “Nick, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Tell us how you met Ellie Perkins,” Piper said.

“I met her similarly to how I met you, Piper,” Nick began. “Her mother was captured by Triggermen and I found her wandering around outside of Diamond City when she was ten. I took her in and acted as a father figure for her until she was old enough to work for me.”

Jack suddenly interrupted the conversation. “Guys, look at the time! There’s a minute until midnight.” He picked up his Pip-Boy as everyone circled around him, trying to watch the clock on the screen.

“Come on, guys. Let’s count down,” Mac said.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one… Happy New Year!” everyone shouted. Bottles of alcohol were opened, hugs were given, and friends made out with each other.

Jack joined Piper, watching everyone else celebrate. “2288. Didn’t think I’d get this far,” he joked.

The reporter elbowed him in the side. “Don’t say that, Blue.”

“I know, I know,” he told her. “I was just joking.”

Piper sighed. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it and… I wanted to thank you. For helping me with Nat, and letting me join you on your adventure. I finally feel… worth it, you know? I went for so long wondering if what I was doing was actually worth all of it. And then you came along and changed that. So thank you. For being my best friend.”

_Come on. Test the waters again._

“Just friends?” Jack said in a flirtatious tone. 

The reporter’s face was on fire once more. “Well… yeah. Unless— _oh god—_ unless something… you know… changes,” she said, her voice cracking multiple times. “God, did it get hot in here?”

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle. God… he had truly fallen for her, hadn’t he?

Looking back at everyone celebrating, he couldn’t help but feel _happy_ for once in his life. Jack suddenly had an epiphany; maybe this was where he was supposed to be after all. It may not be as cozy or as forgiving as the pre-war world, but he had plenty of people around him to make him feel safe. Perhaps it was time for him to start moving on. He knew that he’d never be completely over his old life. Not a chance in hell. But that wouldn’t stop him from starting a new life here, in the Commonwealth. _Nora would be proud of you for wanting to move on. She wouldn’t be upset with you for wanting to._

A smile grew on his face as his epiphany finally settled in. Nora may be gone, but never gone from his heart or memory.

And he was okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I'm back in the groove! I encountered a pretty bad slump as of recently, but I found the motivation from [TheWriterOfFira](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriterOfFira/pseuds/TheWriterOfFira) and her final chapter of her fic. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm super excited for the next two.


	16. The One Where Cait Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack takes Cait to Vault 95 to rid her of her Psycho addiction, while Piper has a hard time thinking straight.

The reporter typed away at the terminal that her companion had set up for her in his bunker home. Her exhaustion was slowly overpowering her, for she had stayed up early into New Year’s morning working on the next article of _Publick Occurrences._ Piper had only recently woken up from a short nap and decided to return to her writing. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus on the task at hand. Her mind repeatedly wandered over to Jack. _It’s just the exhaustion setting in,_ Piper told herself. _You’ll get over it._ Still, she just couldn’t _shake_ him from her thoughts.

 _You like him,_ Piper’s thoughts constantly nagged. This time, it felt right. _You know, you might even_ love _him._

The idea of her being in _love_ with Jack was something that scared Piper to no end. She had always been content with being alone— just her and Nat. If someone told her she’d end up falling for some vault dweller that was born before the war, she would never believe it. Yet, here she was, doing _exactly_ that. It was inevitable, it seemed. Piper _knew_ the consequences of falling for him. She wasn’t a fool, and she wasn’t a stranger to heartbreak, either.

Piper knew that if she were to pursue him, she would be opening herself up to _so_ many vulnerabilities. She knew that she’d be giving him her heart, and giving him a chance to destroy it if he chose to do so.

_Is that a risk you’re willing to take?_

As if summoned by fate, Jack stepped into the bunker home and rested a hand on Piper’s shoulder. “Hey, Red. What’re you up to?”

That damn nickname again. His presence made her heart beat hard against her rib cage. “Just trying to get this article done.” Piper pressed a hand to her chest out of fear that he could _hear_ how hard her heart was pounding.

Jack pulled his hand away from Piper’s shoulder. “Shit, I-I’m sorry if I distracted you.”

 _You’re_ constantly _distracting me, Blue._ “It’s fine. I haven’t gotten much progress anyways.”

“Writer’s block beating the shit outta you?” Jack asked as he lit up a cigarette.

“Pretty much,” she said, running her hand through her jet-black hair. _That, and the fact that I can’t get you out of my damn head._

Jack blew a puff of smoke out of his mouth as he said, “Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up all night?”

“Look who’s talking.” Piper scoffed, turning to face him. She couldn’t help but stare into his captivating hazy blue eyes.

Jack chuckled. “I can’t argue with that,” he admitted. “Cait and I are heading out to Vault 95. Did she tell you about her addiction at all, or is this news to you?”

“She told me.”

“Okay,” the vault dweller replied. “Vault 95 has something that can help, according to her. She wants me to take her there.”

“Good. She definitely needs it,” Piper said. “Stay safe, alright?”

“No promises,” he said, earning him a light punch in the stomach. “We’ll be fine.”

Piper gave him a faint smile. “You _better._ See ya, Blue.”

As her companion left, Piper turned back to her terminal, but did everything that _wasn’t_ writing. She decided to turn on the radio in hopes that it would get her back into the writing groove. The song that came on was easily recognizable as an Ink Spots song by the familiar rift that began with nearly every single one of their songs.

_If I didn’t care more than words can say, if I didn’t care would I feel this way? If this isn’t love, then why do I thrill? And what makes my head go ‘round and ‘round while my heart stands still?_

Stretching her fingers, Piper hummed the song to herself and tried to return to her writing. Yet, (damn here overactive mind) she still couldn’t seem to focus on finishing this one article. It was a rather important one, in fact. She wanted to get the word out about the steady growth of the Minutemen, and had asked Preston shortly after the New Year’s party for an interview. She was only in the early rough drafts, but it was still frustrating her to absolutely _no_ end.

The reporter put her arms up in defeat. “Alright, fine. You’ve got me,” Piper spoke aloud to nobody. She knew that if she didn’t take a break, she’d _never_ get this godforsaken article done.

She dropped herself onto the red couch up against the wall, lighting a cigarette and gently placing it between her lips.

_If I didn’t care, would it be the same? Would my ev’ry prayer begin and end with just your name? And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare? Would all this be true if I didn’t care for you?_

Piper blew out a puff of smoke before taking another drag of her cancer stick. They seemed to be taking the edge off of her anxious nerves, much to her happiness. Yet, it wasn’t clearing up her thoughts at all. In fact, it was doing the exact opposite; it was just making her head feel spacey, and her Blue would _not_ leave her thoughts.

 _“My” Blue? Goddammit._ She let out a long sigh as the spoken part of the song beamed through the radio.

_If I didn’t care, honey child, more than words can say, if I didn’t care baby, would I feel this way? Darlin’ if this isn’t love, then why do I thrill so much?_

_And what is it that makes my head go ‘round and ‘round, while my heart just stands still so much?_

Piper couldn’t fight back anymore, and gave in to her thoughts. How did Jack so easily nestle his way into her heart? God, she hated that she loved him. Yet, it felt so _right,_ and so _wonderfully amazing._ Who was she to argue?

_If I didn’t care, would it be the same? Would my ev’ry prayer begin and end with just your name? And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare? Would all this be true if I didn’t care for you?_

She _must_ have fallen for Jack the moment he showed Sheffield more kindness than anyone else. Sheffield was homeless in Diamond City for as long as Piper could remember, and just like that, Jack had given him a home and something to drink. Out of all the wonderful things she loved about him, she admired that quality the most. He went out of his own way to help others in ways that Piper couldn’t even begin to _imagine_ doing. Jack was doing so much more for the Commonwealth than anyone else was, and it gave her _hope._ Hell, his smile could light up an entire room and could give a whole battalion of Minutemen hope. God knows it did that for Piper.

She recalled the first time Jack had genuinely smiled at her. He had returned to Diamond City, _for her,_ and her only. Piper couldn’t understand why on earth he wanted _her_ by his side during his adventures, but his genuine expression convinced her that he _really_ wanted her to keep him company. Jack truly cared that she was doing the mostly lone wolf a favor, and it made the reporter so unbelievably happy. His honest expression made her feel like she was _worth something,_ and gave her life a whole new level of happiness.

Hell, _he_ made her feel like she could do _so much more._ Jack’s hazy blue eyes that resembled swirling hurricanes reminded Piper of _why_ she had come to love him. He had given her life more meaning. He allowed her to help more people with not just words, but actions, too. It was his selfless, valiant personality she had fallen for in the first place. And then, she fell for _everything else_ about his personality, too.

 _He is_ definitely _easy on the eyes, too,_ Piper thought. But that, was just a bonus.

Piper was done avoiding it. She fell in love _hard_ for the vault dweller. While it was absolutely amazing, it was _terrifying,_ too. He was her closest friend. Besides Nick, the reporter had never had a _real_ best friend. She wouldn’t dare ruin that for Jack. What if he didn’t feel the same? If she told him and he didn’t reciprocate, how would he react? Would it ruin the friendship they had? And even worse, would he be offended by her confession, since he’s still grieving over Nora?

It was those questions that filled the reporter with _so much_ doubt. But God, it was eating her alive.

Once more, her original question popped up in her head. _Is this a risk you’re willing to take?_

Piper would be lying if she said she didn’t want to take the risk.

* * *

It took Jack and Cait about a day to reach Vault 95. As much as Jack tried to avoid vaults, he couldn’t avoid this one. It was his duty as a friend to help Cait. Despite the circumstances of where they were going, he still chose to go anyways.

Jack would rather watch Hell freeze over than watch his friend suffer.

“Listen, I can’t thank ya enough for just agreein’ to help me out,” Cait said. “I’m glad that we’re friends, and that I can trust ya with anything. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to hide my Psycho addiction from ya.”

“I’m glad you came to me before it got out of hand,” Jack told her. “You know, even if it was at an inconvenient time.”

“There’s a reason for me stallin’ for so long,” the Irish woman admitted. “I was real scared you’d hear the truth, and then I’d lose you as a friend. I made a real hell of a mess of it.”

Jack shook his head. “Cait, you would never lose me as a friend just because you were suffering. Friends help each other out, yeah?”

A smile spread across Cait’s face. “Damn you for bein’ so nice to me. I started this, so I suppose I’ll have to finish it.”

“Did you ever try quitting?” Jack asked.

“Believe me, I tried,” she admitted. “I dunno why I’m still takin’ that crap, but I can’t stop. I can’t even go a day without it anymore and I’m fuckin’ sick and tired of it. I’ve even been doin’ it behind everyone’s backs. Worst of all, it’s been makin’ me sick. I’ve been spittin’ blood and I just don’t feel right inside. Which is why I’m glad you’re allowin’ me to get this shite outta me system.”

“Stupid question, but have you asked any doctors about getting your addiction cured?”

“Usually I do go to them doctors around the wasteland, but I’ve been usin’ the damn stuff for so damn long they can’t help me anymore. Vault 95 is my only choice. They’ve got some kind of clean room,” Cait told him.

“Speaking of which,” Jack began, “we’re here.”

The large vault door was opened slightly, and Gunners crowded the entire entrance.

“Damn Gunners,” Cait mumbled. “Let’s get inside and find that clean room.”

The former soldier and Irish fighter took out the Gunners with ease, and stepped inside. The entire vault was filled with Gunners, which soon proved to be difficult. They were outnumbered, and the Gunners would _not_ stop coming.

“I don’t think we can hold ‘em much longer, Jacky boy,” Cait said, firing random shots into the crowd of enemies with her double-barreled shotgun.

“We’re going to have to!” Jack exclaimed. “I’m _not_ giving up until we get you the help you need!”

Jack growled as he took his rifle in his hand, holding it like a baseball bat. He swung it at the heads of the four Gunners in front of them, knocking out three while the fourth one ducked out of the way. The last Gunner tripped Jack, forcing him onto the floor. Cait aimed her shotgun at the Gunner, quickly blowing his head off before helping her companion up off the floor.

“Thanks,” Jack breathed.

Another Gunner came up behind the former soldier, wielding a sledgehammer. “Duck!” Cait exclaimed as the foe swung his hammer, just barely missing Jack. He swiftly retrieved his knife and shoved it through the back of the Gunner’s knee, and Cait finished him off with a quick shot to the chest.

Jack grabbed his knife and nodded at Cait. “Let’s go before more get here.”

“Good idea,” Cait said.

The two quickly fled into the next rooms, finding only a few Gunners and easily taking them out. Eventually, they came across a room with several skeletons, all wearing vault jumpsuits. Barriers were set up throughout the room, and chems littered the floor.

“Look at all these chems!” Cait observed. “Psycho, jet, buffout… It’s all here. Why would there be a stash in this vault?”

“That’s odd. Do you think these guys—” Jack lightly nudged one of the skeletons on the floor with his foot—“fought over the chems?”

“Probably. Unless… oh. Vault-Tec, those animals! Experimentin’ again!”

“They wanted to see what would happen if they threw a bunch of addicts into a closed vault with hidden chems,” Jack concluded. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Look at what they did with _me._ ”

“They fuckin’ disgust me,” Cait said. “Who in their right mind would think that’s okay?”

“The pre-war world had no shortage of horrible people,” Jack told her. “Not much has changed, anyway.”

The two continued on, eventually reaching the clean room. Stretchers and bodies littered the room. At the opposite side, the door to the machine that would help Cait remained closed.

“This must be it, the Clean Room,” she thought aloud. Jack followed her over to the window next to the door, and looked in. Inside was a chair in the middle of the room. Multiple wires were hooked up to it.

_Let’s hope this actually works._

Cait sighed. “The answer to me problems is sittin’ in that room, but I dunno if I should go through with it.”

“Don’t you _want_ to get better?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. My body’s tellin’ me to get it over with. But what if the Psycho’s the only thing keepin’ me together? What if this opens me eyes and I don’t like what I see?” Cait said, listing off all her doubts. “There were reasons I dulled the pain. Things I didn’t want to face. Things I was tryin’ to forget. I’d rather be spittin’ blood than relivin’ the past!”

Jack gripped Cait’s shoulders as hard as he could. “We’ll face that pain together, alright? We both have our own demons, so we might as well face them together.”

Cait lowered her head, pieces of red hair cascading around her face. “You… you’ve already done so much, but you keep offerin’ to do more.” She lifted her head to smile at Jack. “Well, who the hell am I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I’m gonna sit in the chair. Whenever you’re ready, go ahead and throw the switch.”

Jack nodded as he watched Cait enter the room and sit down in the chair. He turned on the terminal before him and clicked on the only option: initiate toxin purge. He immediately stepped into the room in case she needed any help.

The chair locked the Irish woman in place, and the procedure began. Two needles on either side of Cait’s neck went to work, and she screamed in pain. As much as Jack _hated_ to see this happen, he knew it meant that she would be free of her addiction and her suffering.

Soon, the chair released Cait. “You good? How are you feeling?” Jack asked.

She put a hand to her forehead. “Strange. I feel _really_ strange. Everythin’ feels… different. Everythin’ feels… clearer. Colors, smells, sounds. Nothin’ is like I remember.”

Jack let out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding. “God, I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Me neither,” Cait agreed. “The cravin’s, the pain… hell, even the rush, they’ve disappeared. Was I really that far gone?”

“You must have been,” Jack told her. “You said the pain’s gone?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m at me best, but somethin’s changed. The pain has gone from stabbin’ to dull. Maybe some of it was all in me head. Doesn’t matter. I haven’t felt this great in a _long time._ ”

“I’m glad you’re alright. I was damn worried about you,” Jack admitted.

“You know, it seems you’re not the only one. I bet ole Tommy back had this in mind all along. Clever bastard kicked me outta the Combat Zone, so I’d clean myself up, and somehow knew you’d be up for the challenge. I guess he saw somethin’ in ya that I missed,” Cait explained.

“Well, yeah. My charming personality,” Jack joked.

Cait laughed. “Somethin’ like that. Look, I’m never gonna forget what you did for me today. You stepped up and helped when everyone else cashed out. I know I suck at thank you’s, but that’s the best you’re gonna get out of me.”

“No problem, Cait,” Jack told her.  

“Now, how about we get outta here, and leave this place _far_ behind.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Cait handed Jack a bottle of whiskey as she sat down next to him the couch. The two retreated to one of the houses in Sanctuary that Cait had holed up in, getting a load off after the trip to Vault 95.

“And you just… keep a bunch of alcohol around this place?” Jack asked.

“’Course I do,” Cait told him.

“And you think drinking a bunch of alcohol is good idea after what we just did?”

“Quit worryin’, Jacky boy,” she said in response. “We deserve this.”

Jack popped open the bottle and took a sip. “I guess you’re right.”

The two shared plenty of conversation over alcohol. “You know, I’ve been thinkin’ about this since we left.”

“What’s on your mind, Cait?”

“Try to bear with me, alright? It ain’t easy for me to say what I want to say, and I want to say it _right,_ ” Cait said. “Where do I begin? Did you know I spent three years fightin’ in the Combat Zone? Three years of gettin’ beat up by bunch of losers and lunatics. After the matches were over, I’d switch me wounds, spit out the blood, and do a couple a’ shots to keep me goin’. I fuckin’ hated it. I hated the crowds, the other fighters, and I hated myself. I never understood why I put myself through all that garbage. Until now.”

“I’m listening,” Jack reassured. He took another sip of his whiskey  before asking, “What did you realize?”

“I realized that I put myself through all of that because I was alone. And I think deep down… I wanted to die. I wanted one of me opponents to crush the life out of me. The easy way out,” Cait admitted, her fist tightening around her own bottle of whiskey.

“Well, you’re still here now. That was the past, and you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got a whole settlement full of people who _care,_ ” Jack said.

“I realize that now. My life’s been nothin’ but one huge failure after another. You’ve heard all me stories and you know the prices I’ve paid. There were a few times where things got… really bad. I found myself starin’ down the barrel of my own shotgun. I don’t know why I didn’t pull the trigger. I guess I was prayin’ that I could find a decent scrap of humanity left in this fucked up world. And then… what you did for me back there… it was like an answer to all those prayers. That’s the first time in me life I fully depended on someone else, and they didn’t let me down.” Cait rubbed her palm against her eye. “Goddammit, I’m makin’ a mess of this…”

Jack rubbed his friend’s shoulder. “It’s alright, Cait. Let it all out.”

The Irish woman shook her head. “I-I’ll be fine. I-I just need to be gettin’ to the point. Listen, the more time we spend together, the more I’m startin’ to realize just what you mean to me. And I’m not just talkin’ about sharin’ a drink or watchin’ each other’s backs. It’s more than that. Before we met, I never let me guard down around anyone. I wouldn’t dare. But with you, Jacky boy, I feel like I can let you in and see me for everythin’ that I am, for better or for worse. I can’t go back to the way things were before we met. I won’t. But what I need you to is… look me in the eyes and tell me that you feel somethin’ too.”

“I consider us _best friends,_ Cait. I really wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jack told her.

Cait’s eyes dropped. “I… I wasn’t expecting that as an answer, but it still feels damn good to hear you say that.”

The former soldier raised an eyebrow. “What?”

His companion simply sighed before taking a large sip of her whiskey. “Is it not that obvious, Jacky boy? I was hopin’ you’d say you liked me as much as I like you.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond to this. “Cait, I—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “I know you got a thing for Piper, and she’d be lucky to have ya. I just thought that maybe… you know, somethin’ would’ve changed.”

“I-I’m sorry, Cait, I… I’m sorry if I lead you on or anything,” Jack said.

“No, don’t blame yourself, Jack,” she told him. She took yet another large swig of her drink. “It’s my fault for thinkin’ there’d be some chance. Can we just forget this ever happened?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jack said. “Consider it forgotten.”

“Thank God,” Cait sighed, obviously relieved. “And, you know, I think there’s a pretty good chance that she likes ya back.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “Did she tell you anything? Did _you_ say anything to her about me?”

“Nope. I didn’t say anythin’ about it, and she never said anythin’ either,” Cait explained. “But the way she looks at ya is convincing enough. You’ve probably been too oblivious to even notice it.”

Jack shrugged. “Probably. I’m unbelievably oblivious to a lot of that stuff, so it wouldn’t surprise me.”

The two talked for what seemed like hours, chatting about nothing and everything, and eventually getting drunk.

“Man, I coulds juset kuiss you right— _hick_ — n-n-now, J-Jackyyyy boyo,” Cait said, slurring and stumbling on her words.

“Welld, fuckt, why docn't nyou?” Jack challenged her, also too drunk to speak clearly.

One thing lead to another, and the next thing Jack knew, he was in a bed with a wicked headache.

He sat up, rubbing his head. “God, what the hell happened? Wait— _where are my clothes?!”_

Jack looked over to his left to find Cait next to him. As the realization came over him, he freaked out.

“FUCK!”

One night stands were never his thing, but alas, here he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this website that translates phrases into drunk phrases and it's the best writing tool I've ever found.
> 
> Get excited, because the next chapter is going to be big.


End file.
